Sentient
by Tess DiCorsi
Summary: An encounter with a strange object leaves a lasting impression on Kensi. Post season six. Kensi and Deeks as a couple. AU/semi-crossover/weird. Multi-chapter story. Finished, September 13, 2015.
1. Aware

**TITLE** : "Sentient"  
 **AUTHOR** : Tess  
 **RATING** : T

 **DISCLAIMER** : Not mine. Just playing with them and promise to put everything back when I'm done.

* * *

 **SUMMARY** : An encounter with a strange object leaves a lasting impression on Kensi. Post season six. Kensi and Deeks as a couple. AU/semi-crossover/weird.

* * *

 **1.** Sentient: adjective, [sen·tient \ˈsen(t)-sh(ē-)ənt, ˈsen-tē-ənt\\]  
a. responsive to or conscious of impressions.  
b. aware.

* * *

The arms deal was hopefully going to happen on the big screen in Ops. Callen and Sam were meeting with the buyers in a warehouse on La Tijera, just off Westchester Parkway. The buyers were led by David Hillis, a former client of Ray Martindale who did business with Deeks as Max Gentry back in the day. Deeks thought his past with Hillis would help the case but Hetty benched him, and by extension Kensi, since Ray's deal with the Feds could reflect badly on Max. Deeks tried to argue but Hetty was having none of it. He and Kensi were handling the logistics on the Hillis case and any small matters that crossed Hetty desk.

Not that there was all that much to handle. Callen and Sam were running the Hillis case with the help of the Navy and the ATF, the former supplying the weapons while the latter supplemented NCIS's rock-solid backstopping. Nothing else caught Hetty's fancy so Kensi and Deeks spent two weeks working out, updating their DoD training and filing paperwork. Deeks wrote up a FISA warrant request or two just to kill time while improving his knife throwing skills. Kensi was trying to master Mandarin and was being taught how to fence by Hetty and an instructor who coached Mariel Zagunis. All that stopped 48-hours ago when Sam's faux gunnery sergeant arranged for 800 M-16s to be delivered with Callen as his arms dealer/money man. Everything was leading up to tonight's take-down and tonight started with Hillis calling twice to say he was going to be late.

"I got a bad feeling about this," Kensi mentioned to Deeks as they leaned over the big work desk in Ops. "We should be there."

"I agree," Deeks told her.

"Mr. Callen, any word from Mr. Hillis?" Hetty asked as she paced in front of the screen.

"He said eleven," Callen answered, dressed in a suit jacket, jeans and a dress shirt. Sam was dressed in jeans and a brown henley - typical Sam gear.

"And eleven was twenty minutes ago," Deeks reminded them all. "He was always on time when Ray and I dealt with him."

"Callen, Sam," Nell spoke up. "I have a white Mitsubishi truck turning onto La Tijera. Side panel reads Tyron Moving."

"Tactical team ready to go?" Kensi asked on comms.

"Yes, ma'am," Wes Braxton, head of the tac team, answered. "As soon as the deal is made, we're a-go."

"Facial rec positively ID's Hillis in the passenger seat," Eric told the team. "The driver's face isn't clear in any traffic camera."

"There's probably men in the back of the truck. Hillis wouldn't wreck his manicure prying open a crate of weapons, forget actually moving the product," Deeks said.

"A man after your own heart," Sam teased.

"I enjoy the quality menicure as much as the next guy but when I was working Hillis, Ray and I did all the heavy lifting - literally," Deeks joked.

"I can see the van from here," Callen advised. "Nell, anything on the driver?"

"Still can't find a usable angle on a traffic cam," Nell answered.

Eric added a picture-in-picture box on the big screen, showing the outside of the warehouse. The driver took a turn on the road up to the warehouse door, backing the truck up to the loading dock.

"I don't like this," Kensi said, echoing what Deeks was thinking.

"Probably just want to make it easier to load the guns," Callen said, watching the truck just outside the warehouse door, not quite comfortable with Hillis's actions either.

"Or make a hasty retreat. Be on your guard, Mr. Callen, Mr. Hanna."

Deeks finally saw the driver. "This is a robbery, not a deal, Callen, Sam. Hugo Lawrence is the driver. Part hit man, part cleaner, all bad news." Deeks walked over the collaboration board and pulled up Lawrence's rap sheet from the LAPD database. He quickly e-mailed the document to Callen, Sam and the tactical team.

"Abort, Mr. Callen. Abort," Hetty ordered. "Mr. Deeks, when did you come across Mr. Lawrence?"

"He did some jobs for Emilio Ortega just before I got there. He was too crazy for Emilio. The same Emilio Ortega who wanted to chop off one of his dealer's hands for skimming from him. And Lawrence was too crazy for Emilio."

"Donohue, Davis," Hillis called to Callen and Sam as he walked into the warehouse, "I want you to meet an associate of mine."

"Now would be a good time to end this, Mr. Braxton," Hetty ordered just before Braxton and several of the tactical team members yelled "Federal Agents!"

Things never go well when people yell that, Deeks thought to himself as he watched the entire bust go to hell. While David Hillis made a run for the warehouse door trying to get back to the truck, Hugo Lawrence pulled out a sawed-off shotgun from under his military-style jacket. The first shot hit Callen square in his bullet-proof vest, sending him reeling. The second caught Callen in the thigh and knocked him to the ground. Sam got off two shots - Lawrence was also wearing a vest. The first hit the top of Lawrence's vest, the second got him in the throat.

"Mr. Beale, we're going to need an ambulance immediately," Hetty told Eric but he was already in contact with EMS. Ops was otherwise silent. Not for the first time Deeks wondered how Hetty, Eric and Nell could sit and watch from afar when the team was in the field running stings. He noticed Kensi's hands were balled into fists. He reached over and put his fight hand over the left fist. She shocked the hell out of him by relaxing just enough to hold his hand.

As Sam tried to cross to Callen, automatic weapon fire came from the warehouse door. David Hillis had an AR-15 rifle and was firing wildly. Sam's right arm flew back and he fell to the ground. Wes Braxton quickly ended David Hillis's attack and seemingly his life. The rest of the tactical team made quick work of the four men in waiting in the Mitsubishi. Braxton and his team member started to the center of the warehouse to offer first aid. Sam, bleeding from his right arm, crawled over to Callen, struggling to take off Callen's belt with his left hand.

Wes Braxton announced the "all-clear" as he and the tactical team member got to Callen. A failed attempt to push Sam away led to both Braxton and Sam working on a tourniquet for Callen. One of the tactical team members ran out of the warehouse only to return with what looked like a full EMT bag.

"Hetty, what should..."

Hetty cut off Kensi before she could finish her sentence. "Miss Blye, Mr. Deeks, please go to the Hanna household and pick up Michelle, I shall be calling her presently. Miss Jones, please have Mr. Callen's and Mr. Hanna's medical records sent to UCLA Medical Center. Mr. Beale, please coordinate with Mr. Braxton and LAPD. I want all everyone involved in tonight's events held until our people can question them. Contract Granger, his flight should be landing at LAX within the hour."

"I'll drive," Deeks told Kensi, who let go of his hand the minute Hetty's attention turned to them.

"I can do it."

"I know you can but I think..."

"I'll drive."

Deeks figured at least he offered knowing she wouldn't accept.

x-x-x

While their injuries were serious, Callen and Sam were out of surgery and in a shared room before 9AM the following morning. Both men would be out of action for some time. Callen's leg wound was severe and he broke his left elbow falling after he was shot. Sam was actually shot twice - once in the right forearm shattering his radial bone and one shot grazing his right shoulder that was more of a bleeder than anything else.

Sam wanted to check himself out AMA - Against Medical Advice - but was warned not to because of AMA - Against Michelle's Advice. He was staying at least another day as Michelle prepared for probably a three month stint of Sam recovering and rehabbing before a possible return to work. Callen was eventually going to return to the rehab facility where he recovered from his May 2009 shooting. He wondered if he got frequent patient points - a joke that did not sit well with Hetty. Hetty wanted a full review of what went wrong. She was tiring of hospitalized agents and yet another near-miss for members of her team.

Kensi and Deeks returned to his apartment just before three after dropping Michelle Hanna home. The two had orders not to return to the office before 1PM the next day. Monty needed some Deeks time that included a long walk for the dog. Deeks picked up some take out from Maxwell's for the non-canines in his apartment. Kensi and Deeks enjoyed a quick bite together and separate showers before they were sound asleep on his couch. Deeks woke up around nine and after bathroom visits for the non-canines and a stroll to the corner and back for Monty, he and Kensi fell into bed and back to sleep.

Kensi's phone rang first, not long after sunrise. The 1PM start for the day was being pushed up to right now. Deeks phone rang just after Kensi hung up - so much for sleeping in. She showered, he walked Monty. He showered, she found the Pop Tarts. Domestic bliss at its best.

Arriving at the office, Hetty looked tired but stronger than she did at the hospital a day earlier. Nell and Eric were back in Ops for another day. Granger was the surprise this morning. "Sorry to disturb your late day but the SecNav arrived in town the night Callen and Sam were shot. She spent yesterday in meetings with the several media outlets concerning the portrayal of the Navy as well as meeting with officials from China Lake and Point Magu. She visited Callen and Hanna last night," Granger stated their briefing.

"But her agenda today is the real reason we've called you in early Miss Blye and Mr. Deeks," Hetty told them. "Nell, if you please."

"Today, the SecNav along with her counterparts with the Army and Air Force as well as the Commandant of the Marines and several staffers from the Joint Chiefs will be part of a tour of the Historical Weaponry exhibit at the Design Museum in Downtown Los Angeles."

"There have been regular protests at the Design Museum," Deeks said, knowing several of his fellow officers were making good overtime money working the protests.

"And that's why the SecNav's party is being brought in this morning at 10 for a private tour," Eric put the memo from the Museum to the SecNav's security staff on the big screen.

"Why did the Design Museum even agree to the show?" Deeks asked. "They're usually showing how to light a city for a year with four potatoes and half a box of Tide. This seems out of character for them."

"The Design Museum's membership may agree with you Mr. Deeks but a wealthy, anonymous patron offered a ten million dollar donation to go with the six week exhibit. That is a sum of money the Design Museum, and really any museum, cannot turn down."

"And there are people who are into how armor was designed, its function and how it looked," Eric added.

Kensi smiled. "You know someone making a knights and sword video game, don't you Eric?"

"Maybe." Eric replied. "I was going with Sam next week. He loves this stuff. Obviously that's on hold."

"Getting back to the SecNav's tour," Granger tried to steer the conversation back on track. "While the various dignitaries have their typical security with them for this visit, it has been suggested that we have our own agents undercover during the tour as an extra team of eyes and ears."

"If it's a private tour," Kensi wondered aloud, "how do we join the group?"

"You and Mr. Deeks will pose as museum employees to get close to the SecNav's tour. The museum has already embedded Secret Service and MI5 agents with tours in the past. The museum's security people are in the business of protecting the exhibits, not dignitaries. Miss Blye, you'll be working as part of the museum's public relations staff since if I remember correctly, your art history knowledge is one of the few areas where you lack expertise."

Deeks smiled, figuring maybe it was his turn to shine. "I dated an art major in college. Walked through the Getty regularly with Paula. She loved the classics."

"Well, you'll be walking through the museum during this assignment, Mr. Deeks. Their janitor's uniform is quite a step up from your usual one piece work suit and they have the most uniquely designed dust pans."

"Again as a janitor? I do know a Manet from a Monet."

"We'll keep that in mind the next time one of our investigations requires a fine eye for French realism transitioning to impressionism versus just French impressionism but as a janitor, you'll be able to clearing the rooms just before the SecNav's group walks through."

"Do they expect trouble from protesters?" Kensi asked.

"The protests started dying down last week when the museum explained the exhibit guaranteed them the large donation and their plans for the donation," Nell replied. "There is a concern that a leak of the presence of the SecNav and her counterparts will bring the protesters back en masse."

"Do we know who made the donation?" Deeks was curious.

"While it is anonymous right now, the Secret Service signed off on whoever it was it because the both the Vice President and England's Prince William were given private tours last week." Granger looked at his watch. "You two should get changed and get over there as soon as possible. Deeks needs to check out the place before the tour and Kensi can't be joining it halfway through. I expect to hear from the both of you the minute the SecNav's group is back in their limos and on the way to Edwards Air Force Base."

"And then you might want to swing by the hospital. Mr. Hanna is being released sometime today, meaning Mr. Callen would likely enjoy some company."

Kensi and Deeks both nodded. This wasn't going to be too rough.

x-x-x

"Oh, we have to get Hetty to make them give us that uniform," Kensi said from the empty PR conference room. Her tablet was connected to the museum's surveillance cameras.

"Do you think this place has a burn room because I'm setting it on fire after I take it off," Deeks looked down at the museum's design contest winning janitor's uniform. The black pants stopped just above his ankle. The grey crocs he was assigned matched the piping on pants' hems and side-seams. The top was form fitting to his waist when it flared out with four large pockets making a near mid-thigh skirt. "I wish them nothing but a speedy recovery but thank God Callen and Sam aren't here."

"Oh, I sent Sam a screen shot of you working," Nell chirped in from Ops. "He and Michelle are in paperwork hell and I thought he could use a smile."

"I'll remember that Nell next time you need a favor," he feigned outraged. "Red light cam tickets," Deeks said as a fake cough.

"No, really, Deeks, it is a look only you can pull off," Eric teased.

Deeks sighed as he checked to see if the side exterior doors were locked throughout the main exhibition room. They were. He glanced at the complete suits of armor were housed in tall glass cases, passing the assorted weaponry and orphaned pieces of armor - helmets, visors and gauntlets -in cases in the middle of the room. Eric was right. Sam would love this stuff. "Why can't I be the PR expert?"

"With a haircut, Mr. Deeks," Hetty noted, "you might be able to pull off a more professional look."

"This is an art gallery, nobody wants to look professional."

"I look professional," Kensi said with pride.

"Of course you do, you're wearing a Hugo Boss suit. Put me in a Hugo Boss..."

"I don't think you'd look all that professional in Kensi's suit," Eric joked.

"And if we're done with the comedy portion of this operation, I'd like a status report," Granger jumped in.

"The SecNav and her group are currently taking photos with the museum's curator. When they start the tour, I will be trailing the group. The NCIS agents with the SecNav, Agents Yates and Burley, are aware that Deeks and I are with OSP."

"Who told them?" Granger asked.

"I worked with Stan Burley in early 2008 in Tokyo. He was the Agent Afloat on the Fitzgerald and there was a data breech. He remembered me."

"How did we miss that, Beale?" Granger was not happy.

"Burley was a last minute addition to the security team. Joel Etherton was listed with the SecNav's security team but was sent back to Washington last night. His wife went into early labor and the SecNav sent him home," Nell put the orders up on the big screen. "Burley is a senior agent in the Seal Beach Regional Office and was temporarily assigned to the security detail. The SecNav's office was aware of Callen and Sam's injuries and didn't want to overtax this office."

"So I can go home?" Deeks said hopefully as he walked the reflection camera attached to the circular dust pan under the exhibition case.

"Janice, if you're ready, our guests are ready to tour the exhibit," Gerard Dodd, the curator's assistant told Kensi.

"Mr. Deeks, your time in that most unique service uniform may be coming to an end, the tour is moving to the exhibit's anteroom. Please check the vestibule and wait for the group to finish their viewing of the exhibit."

Deeks slipped a small piece of duct tape on the door's bolt plate, allowing him instant access back into the room if needed. Pulling out his own tablet from one of the shirt's ridiculous pockets, he now watched the tour group, hoping none of them would see him in this stupid uniform.

The Commandant of the Marines was a history buff and engaged the guide showing every piece. The SecNav and her counterparts as well as each member of the officials' security teams and the rest of the tour members were attentive but not nearly as enthralled. Kensi liked military history and artifacts - her father was a fan. When she was younger, living in North Carolina, her parents would bring her to Washington on long weekends to sightsee. There would always be an afternoon where Don Blye would bring her to the Smithsonian to look at the military exhibits.

While the main members of the tour looked at a full suit of samurai armor and listened to the guide explain the individual pieces, Kensi looked at the smaller pieces in the exhibit table in the center of the room. Flanked by a series of helmets and visors in two exhibit cases, an assortment of breast plates, faulds, tassets and gauntlets were displayed.

As the tour moved to the center of the room, Kensi walked to the end of the exhibit table, noticing one of the gauntlets had what looked like a ruby on the knuckle of the middle finger. Kensi looked for a second and the metal around the ruby closed over the gem before opening again, almost winking at her. Kensi gasped.

"Kensi," Deeks came over the ear wig, "what's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said looking at the tour group as they made their way to her.

"Kens," Deeks said knowingly.

"Nothing, really," she said, convincing herself the shooting of Callen and Sam and the lack of sleep over the last couple of days had her seeing things. She was definitely not seeing things when a side exterior door opened and a concussion grenade was tossed under the exhibit table.

"Bomb," Kensi, Cassie Yates and Stan Burley all yelled. Kensi grabbed the museum guide as Cassie Yates shielded the Sec Nav. Deeks opened the vestibule door yelling, "In here." as the tour members raced to him. Stan Burley, the museum guide and Kensi were on the wrong side of the grenade.

"Mr. Deeks, I thought you checked those side doors."

"Hetty, I did, I swear." Deeks stood at the door with his gun drawn, pushing people into the vestibule. "They were locked."

"The security cameras behind the museum show nobody is in the driveway area," Eric said.

"Someone threw that grenade, Mr. Beale. Find them. Status, Mr. Deeks?"

"Everyone's secure but Burley, Kensi and the museum guide. Let's move, Kensi," Deeks yelled.

"Go," Burley ordered as he slid under the table and attempted to kick the grenade to the side door.

Kensi pushed the guide toward the Deeks. She saw the grenade slide back to the side door just as it exploded.

The tall exhibit cases holding the armor withstood the blast though several items fell from the suits. The exhibition table, however, shattered, sending wood, glass and the items held in the case into the air.

As Kensi tried to pull an unconscious Stan Burley toward Deeks, she felt something metallic hit her right wrist as the glass rained down on them. The side doors reopened and two masked gunmen walked in with automatic weapons. Kensi pulled out her gun as she tried to drag Burley away from danger.

"Freeze, LAPD," Deeks called from the doorway. They started shooting at him. Watching the SecNav's group leave through the back of the vestibule, Deeks said, "I'll hold them off" to Cassie Yates as she sought to bring the group to safety.

"Deeks, Kensi, LAPD SWAT is two minutes out," Nell told him as he fired at the gunman closest to him. A shot to his chest, center mass, did little to slow the gunman down. Deeks raised his eye level and aimed for the man's neck. As the gunman took another step, Deeks shot him in the throat.

"Kensi!?" Deeks called. "Nell, I can't see Kensi, there's too much smoke," Deeks said.

"What can you see, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

Deeks turned to Yates, "Get them out of here."

"The cameras in the main exhibition room must have been taken out with the grenade," Nell told Deeks. "I'm going to try something, see if I can switch the anti-theft sensors to infrared and lead you to Kensi."

Kensi didn't see much and could hear even less. Her earwig was long gone and even if she found it, the ringing in her ears would render it useless. She thought she heard gunfire and Deeks calling her name.

Through the smoke, she saw a figure moving toward her. The figure - a tall man - was wearing a black baggy jumpsuit and black Doc Martens. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," the man said with a slight German accent. "He told me you'd be a worthy opponent. Instead, you're cowering in the corner, little girl. I expected more of a fight."

Kensi lifted her weapon and fired. The SIG jammed.

"Oh, did we forget to clean our weapon this morning. You weren't worth the money paid for this assignment but I'll take it anyway," the man teased as he made his way closer.

Kensi leaned over to Burley but his belt holster was empty.

Kensi thought she heard Deeks calling her name again but she didn't want to confirm her location to her adversary. She was pulling her knife from her jacket pocket when she was kicked into the wall. Kensi had the wind knocked out of her and the knife knocked away.

"Weak," the man said as he lifted his weapon.

Dazed, Kensi looked up and saw...no, it couldn't be.

"Baby girl," Don Blye told his beloved daughter, "You have to protect yourself. Have faith in yourself and those who love you. You are so much stronger than I ever dreamed you'd be. You've made me proud every day of your life. Protect yourself at all costs, you are worth the fight." As quickly as he appeared, Don Blye was gone. Instead, the gunman stood over Kensi.

Kensi instinctively raised her hands to protect herself when she felt something wrap around her right hand and lower arm. Something metal. Finally able to hear and catching her breath, she braced herself for the shot, desperate for Deeks to find her.

The first shot was fired but bounced off the metal protecting her right arm. The second shot not only bounced off the metal but ricocheted back at the shooter. As he tried to grab Kensi's arm, she swung her arm at him, earning a gasp and a "son of a bitch," from the shooter. Pulling her arm down, she could see there was a five inch blade come from the middle knuckle of the gauntlet.

Kensi heard Deeks yell freeze and fired his weapon. The shooter crumpled to the ground.

Kensi looked at her arm, watching what looked like the gauntlet that winked at her fold itself into a bracelet around her wrist. The action was barely completed when Deeks grabbed her.

"Are you okay?" Deeks was almost patting her down. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "Agent Burley is hurt."

"Nell, we've got injured."

"Who is injured Mr. Deeks?" Hetty asked.

"The bad guys are dead or close to it. Burley's out cold," Deeks said, bending over to look at the NCIS agent, seeing small cuts all over his forehead. "Kensi's a little shook up."

"I am no such thing." Kensi looked down at the bracelet on her wrist and tried to remove it. When she tried to pull it off, it was hot to the touch. She felt her left fingers start to burn while the bracelet's touch on her right wrist remained cool.

"Miss Blye, I expect you to receive medical attention."

"I don't think she has her earwig," Deeks said, pulling off his awful shirt and making it a pillow for Burley. First useful thing that shirt did all day. The unconscious agent's breathing was fine - he was just out cold.

"Then I expect you, Mr. Deeks, to make sure she is checked by the paramedics. I think a return to the office is unnecessary. Please drive Agent Blye home if the medical professionals think that's wise."

"Where's Agent Yates?" Deeks said as he stood, finally remembering the reason they were there.

"Agent Yates got the SecNav and her group to safety. LAPD SWAT is standing down for now. Mr. Deeks, get Mr. Burley and Miss Blye medical attention immediately."

x-x-x

Deeks changed in the SWAT truck, glad the team leader remembered and liked him from the Academy. Burley came around just as the EMTs got to him. He was going to Cedars for a full neurological work up. Deeks lent the NCIS agent his phone - Burley's fell from his suit just as he kicked the bomb away, meeting a premature end - to call his wife. A Marine MP based at Seal Beach was bringing Nancy Burley to the hospital.

Kensi refused any hospital trip but agreed to being checked out by the EMTs. She sat at the door of the ambulance as a medic was dabbing antiseptic on a few scratches on her face. A quick check of her torso showed a bad bruise but no broken ribs.

LAPD, LAFD and the FBI were all over the museum. Deeks was answering questions as needed and leaning on planter outside the museum used in bomb protection while watching Kensi in the ambulance. He heard from Eric - the video feed of the alley behind the museum was a loop from earlier in the morning. A different security camera from the museum's loading dock saw a black SUV pull into the alley and a shot of what looked to be a ladder being used. Nell thought that was whoever tampered with the cameras. And whoever was the key. A quick fingerprint check could not identify the two dead gunmen.

As Kensi waited to hear from the EMT that she was free to go, Michelle Hanna walked up to the ambulance. "You're not allowed to get hurt while Sam is out. I thought I made that clear last winter when Sam was shot." Michelle shook her head in mock disgust. "He's going to think the two of you can't take care of yourselves and rush his rehab."

Kensi smiled, "We weren't trying to get hurt, I promise."

"No, you were all laughing at Deeks's janitor's uniform. Poor boy will never live that down. Sam wants a clean photo of Deeks in the uniform to make gag Christmas cards for the office," Michelle joked. "Hey, how are you really doing, Kensi?"

"Still recovering from Deeks's janitor's uniform," Kensi deflected as she stared at the bracelet. Looking up at Michelle, Kensi saw Sam talking to the bomb squad. "Did Sam insist you drive him here?"

"He and Eric were having a good time making fun of Deeks's shirt of many pockets using the secure tablet Hetty left for him last night. There were more forms getting him out of the hospital than in. As we got into my car, the bomb went off. Eric tried to disconnect the call but Sam made it clear he still had one good arm and knows where Eric lives. He listened while we were supposed to be driving home. By the time it was over, we were about five blocks from here."

"Sorry."

"What matters is the two of you aren't badly hurt. What happened to you?"

That was an excellent question, Kensi thought to herself but figured Michelle would return to the hospital with Kensi ticketed to the psych ward if she spoke the truth. "There was a concussion grenade and some smoke...lots of confusion...you know, another day at NCIS."

While Michelle and Kensi chatted, Sam finished with the bomb squad and made his way to Deeks. "Where's the shirt?" Sam asked as he walked up.

"Someplace you'll never find it," Deeks joked. Burley actually bled on it so he had the EMT treat it as biological waste. "You should be home."

"We're a team," Sam said as he waved to Kensi. She waved back with her left hand.

"And you're recovering. Seriously, man, it didn't go down the way it was supposed to but everyone who matters is fine or going to be fine and everyone who doesn't matter is dead."

"No idea who is behind this?"

"No, but there is money involved. The dead guys aren't in the system so someone paid to bring them in. They lasered their way through the steel side door," Deeks pointed to the side door. "This wasn't a smash and grab operation."

"The bomb squad is interested in the device. The usual concussion/smoke grenade is shaped like a can of shaving cream. This thing is like a stainless steel hockey puck. State of the art and not cheap."

"Thank God people are putting resources into building a smaller and more efficient grenades and not wasting their time curing cancer."

"How's Kensi?"

"Oh, she's fine, just ask her. She'll tell you she's fine and never say another word."

"You think the bomb maybe triggered..."

"I don't know. She never talks about what happened. She cries sometimes, has the occasional nightmare. I know if I press too hard she'll just bury that deeper so I hold her and tell her I'm there for her if she wants to talk."

"And one day she'll talk to you. You're good for her. You always have been."

"Thanks," Deeks was genuinely grateful for Sam's support. "When do you start P.T."

"Week after next and not a minute before," Michelle said as she and Kensi joined Sam and Deeks.

"The doctor said I could do some running..."

"The doctor said you can help me run some errands, big difference."

Deeks looked at Kensi. "You OK?"

"I'm fine and before you say anything, I am really fine."

Michelle pointed her finger at Deeks. "I told her and I'll tell you. There are enough injured NCIS agents in Special Projects right now."

"I'm still LAPD," Deeks said before he saw Sam shake his head and make the cut sign with his good arm.

"I don't care what agency you come from, you two look out for each other, you both look out for the two tech geniuses, the big, bad boss lady and the guy formerly with the CIA."

"Technically the little bad boss lady but OK," Deeks noted, enjoying Michelle in charge. Sam just shook his head.

Michelle didn't pay either man any mind. "Take your partner home and make sure she's alright. Then get your girlfriend some dinner."

Deeks smiled. "Yes ma'am."

"You go home with your partner. Let him get you dinner and then you let your boyfriend tuck you in and watch you sleep. Lord knows that's what I'll be doing with him for the next few weeks." Michelle put her arm around Sam and said "Your team is safe, you're going home."

"The boss has spoken," Sam said.

"I'll call you soon Sam," Kensi said as Sam and Michelle started to leave.

"Not until next week," was Michelle's final warning to them.

Kensi would wait until Michelle gave her the OK. Maybe Sam would know about her bracelet and why she couldn't get it off her arm.

x-x-x

Deeks took Kensi back to his place and followed Michelle's instructions faithfully. During dinner, Monty sat at Kensi's feet, as if he knew she was troubled. Deeks fielded calls from the office. "Yes" Kensi was resting. "Yes" they were both fine "Yes" they planned on returning to work the following day. To Kensi's surprise, Deeks told her the Museum announced every piece was accounted for and hoped to reschedule the SecNav's group. Not to her surprise, the group members passed.

Kensi objected when Deeks said he was sleeping on the couch but Deeks was worried she was sore and wanted her to rest comfortably. She quickly slipped on a long tee-shirt she had in her go-bag that covered the bruises on her torso and the bracelet. She tried twice to remove the bracelet and had her fingers scorched both times.

Deeks shooed Monty out of his bedroom. He kissed Kensi and told her to starfish alone on the bed while she could, he had plans for her when she was back in fighting form. As he turned off the light, she wondered if the plans took in the fact that fighting form included her right arm as a weapon.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : Yeah I know, I hate them and then I write them.

This is a crossover with a completely different fandom so incredibly AU. Will not be most people's cup of tea. As for the other fandom - it is based on just parts of it and you do not have to be super involved in that fandom to follow this (because I'm not). Wow, could I convince you any harder not to read this? This is a little out of my comfort zone with alternating POVs and being Kensi-centric but getting out of one's comfort zone every now and again is fun.

TLDR: I saw a picture from a different fandom and had an idea.

Posting schedule remains the same - every Sunday until we're done.


	2. Magic

**2**. "Where there is a woman, there is magic." ― Ntozake Shange

* * *

Kensi saw her father again, this time in her dreams. They were in a military history museum somewhere with Kensi acting as tour guide. She was explaining the weapons and tools she used as an NCIS agent to her attentive father. There were photos of Kensi hanging on a wall - in a Marine officer uniform working undercover on the Van Buren, sitting as a sniper outside the decommissioned power plant waiting to rescue Deeks, throwing a knife with Thapa and Deeks when they were cornered in the warehouse, picking a lock with Callen early in her career, wiring up her date's apartment with listening devices before being called in to meet Granger for the first time. Master Sergeant Blye, in his blue dress Marine uniform complete with cover and ceremonial sword, was smiling as she explained the cases. She looked at him whenever she mentioned Deeks and always saw his smile grow a little wider. She was thrilled with that reaction.

Don Blye pointed to the morgue photo of Peter Clairmont. Kensi reviewed her long covert investigation and how Owen Granger fed it breadcrumbs to follow. She knew the father she loved wouldn't drive drunk and she was so sorry she snuck out that night. He smiled and reminded her she was fifteen and even though she was a good girl, he always knew there would be a little teenage rebellion. Granger killed Clairmont protecting her, Kensi told her father, after she discovered how Clairmont killed all the members of Don Blye's sniper team.

Kensi explained why she continued serving her country with NCIS in the modern war on terror, mastering the skills he taught her and adding to her areas of expertise. A proud Don Blye told Kensi she'd grown into not just the smart, independent woman he wanted her to be but she was so much more. Kissing her on the forehead, a gesture made often when she completed a difficult task as a child, Don Blye explained she was about to realize what he always knew was true - her greatest power and her undeniable strength were inside her. With her skills, he knew she'd always survive but with her heart, he knew she'd thrive. Kensi woke with a start.

Despite what happened to her the day before, Kensi felt great. She pulled up her tee-shirt and saw the bruising on her stomach where she was kicked was gone. Stretching, there were no kinks to be ironed out. Looking at the bracelet, she tried to remove it, only to have her fingers burn again. Oddly, there was no lasting redness after she took her fingers away from the piece.

Grabbing clean clothes from "her" drawer in Deeks's bedroom, she made her way to the bathroom. A Post-It note on the bathroom mirror read "Monty needed a walk. I'll be back with breakfast." Removing the note, Kensi took a good look at herself in the mirror. She seemed rested with the scratches and abrasions from the flying glass at the museum all healed. There was nothing but a burning sensation in her fingers when Kensi tried to remove the bracelet before she stepped into the shower.

Loud banging on the bathroom door, startling Kensi, interrupted her long, warm, relaxing shower. A skeletal glove grew out of the bracelet, much to Kensi's amazement, covering the back of her hand.

"I have foraged the greatest of meats, eggs and cheeses for your breakfast," Deeks yelled as the banging stopped. "OK, maybe the good people at the Cow's End made it but hey, I paid, that should count for foraging, right? Hurry up, it's going to get cold."

"Out in a sec," Kensi said as the bracelet returned to its normal form. She stared at it for a few seconds before finishing her shower. Giving her hair a quick towel dry, Kensi was glad her long sleeve, green v-neck tee-shirt was here at Deeks's.

"You were up early," Kensi gave Deeks a peck on the cheek. "If you're going to whine that you had a rough night on the couch, remember, you're the one that picked the living room over me."

"I would never pick the living room over you, though you would think twice if it was me or the kitchen." Deeks handed Kensi her Beef-O omelet and a Mango Tango dairy-free smoothie.

"I'd take you in the kitchen. Best of both worlds."

"I'll put getting taken in the kitchen on my to do list," Deeks gave her a little leer before taking a bite out of his breakfast taco. "One of these days I'll make you eggs benedict but today is not that day, sadly. There's bacon in the carton over there."

"You keep promising eggs benedict but not delivering. And Deeks, nothing is ever sad with bacon."

"As always, I defer to your expertise." Putting down his breakfast, he asked, "Better this morning?"

"Much better. I didn't need the bed to myself."

"Won't happen again," Deeks promised. "Plan for today?"

"There's probably a ton of paperwork we never got to after yesterday," Kensi told him, thinking maybe she could find another inventory list from the museum and identify the bracelet. "I'd like to stop in and visit Stan."

"How close were you and Stan?"

"Jealous?"

"What, who, me?" Deeks smiled. "Answer the question."

"The Far East Field Office was my first big assignment after FLETC and working in D.C. I was the youngest person in that office and the least experienced. I was assigned there specifically to work on a smuggling ring that was uncovered by the unit in D.C. where I was assigned. The old director of NCIS was a woman and she wanted to mentor female agents who she thought had..."

"Mad skillz?"

"More like had a bright future at NCIS, Director Sheppard told me as she personally handed me my orders. I lived in Japan for a while as a kid so that was a plus. So was the fact that everyone else on the DC team was older, married and had every reason not to want to be the point person in Tokyo for an open-ended assignment."

"So you met Stan..."

"Well, since I wasn't working the case every minute of every day, NCIS would send me from time to time to some of the ships in the Seventh Fleet to help work their cases. There was an external data breech on the Fitzgerald and Stan needed help interviewing suspects. The Fitzgerald has anti-submarine charges, surface-to-air missiles, Tomahawks - terrorists or a foreign country getting access to those weapon systems was a great concern."

"You catch 'em?"

"Of course, but not in Japan. It was a couple of American teenagers at a private high school for expats in Hong Kong. They were the sons of corporate executives who were working with the Bank of China. I think one of the kids works for the CIA now, another is with the FBI. Third kid was more along for the ride. He supplied the weed if I remember correctly."

"And Stan."

"Stan didn't provide any weed. He was and still is an agent in good standing with NCIS."

"Touché."

"Stan was a nice guy who was happy for the assistance. When we got back to FEFO, he took me to dinner at Les Halles in Tokyo because he read "Kitchen Confidential" and wanted to try the place. He was far more excited by oysters and venison than the company. Stan was not a fan of mass produced food meaning living on an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer didn't provide him a lot of meals to his likings."

"They need to get Steven Seagal."

Kensi shook her head. "You love that movie."

"I'm just a cook," Deeks imitated Seagal's "Under Siege" signature line. Finishing his breakfast, he asked, "How are you really feeling this morning? I'm smart enough to wait until you were feed since 'hungry' will always be your first answer."

"I feel good. Better, I mean."

"Your face healed up quick."

She picked up her smoothie. "All the healthy eating I've been doing." Kensi saw Deeks was in a rare, serious mood. "I feel great. Got a good night's sleep. Really good. Maybe you should spend more quality time on the couch."

"You'd miss Monty."

"Oh, he can come into the bedroom any time. You on the other hand," Kensi stuck out her tongue before finishing her breakfast.

"Well, he may be over at your place in a couple of nights."

"What's going on?"

"Bates called this morning while Monty and I were touring the finer local fire hydrants. You've heard about the attacks in Griffith Park."

"Eight rapes in the last three months," Kensi knew. Every female in Los Angeles knew.

"Well, the FBI thinks this week or weekend might fit a pattern one of their genius profilers figured out."

"You're being recalled? How long?"

"Weekend only, Hetty doesn't need to audition replacements."

"That's a relief, especially since we're so shorthanded. What are you going to be doing?"

"I need to break out Artie and take an undercover non-nap near the trail by the Greek Theater. He's attacked women all over the park so LAPD wants to station officers in different places."

Kensi grew concerned. "There are wild animals in that park. Mountain lions. Should you be sleeping there?"

"I'll be wide awake. We gotta get this guy. He's done awful things to these women. It is not in the press but after he assaults them, he's got this indelible marker writes the most vile things on their bodies. So not only are the victims photographed for their injuries but they have words like whore on their forehead showing up in the pictures," Deeks shook his head. "Bastard."

"What night are you going to be there?"

"Probably Saturday, maybe Friday. There haven't been any attacks on Sundays. The FBI thinks there is a work or family reason for that. Bates is figuring out the schedule."

"I can sit in a car if you want company."

"I don't want you anywhere near that park until this guy is caught. I know you're badass Kensi Blye but this guy is a violent psycho and I'm allowed to be a caveman boyfriend when it comes to this."

"You're actually not allowed to be a caveman but I do appreciate my overprotective boyfriend every now and again." Kensi smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"So we swing by Cedars before going to work so you can see very platonic friend Stan."

"He's married, he's got a kid coming. He was nice to me a long time ago."

"After visiting very platonic Stan, we can start plowing through the paperwork from yesterday."

"I'd still like to know who is the anonymous donor of all this armor," Kensi said. And if they know about this bracelet and how can I get it off my arm she wanted to say.

"Can't imagine that won't come up sooner or later. Insurance and all that."

Yeah, Kensi thought as she looked for her boots, all that.

x-x-x

As Kensi and Deeks arrived at his room, Stan Burley and his six-months pregnant wife were in the same hospital paperwork hell Sam and Michelle endured a day earlier, just a different hospital. Mrs. Stan, Nancy, was a JAG lawyer and a Marine. She thought there was less paperwork involved with moving an enemy combatant from the battlefield to Gitmo than to get Stan sent home. Stan made a brief comment about Kensi's lack of cuts and bruises but Kensi joked about a quality foundation and living a healthy lifestyle. Nancy Burley was pushing the healthy lifestyle - like not trying to kick a grenade when your wife is due in three months.

Once at the office, Kensi and Deeks gave Hetty and Granger a recap of their visit with Burley before they started their after-action reports. Deeks banged out his "just the facts" summary for Bates and LAPD before getting into Hetty's more extensive review. Kensi studied the museum's exhibit inventory once her report was complete, noticing the winking gauntlet wasn't even listed. She looked at the bump under her long sleeve shirt and wasn't sure what to think. A whistle from Eric broke her concentration - he and Nell had news up in Ops.

Walking into Ops, Kensi and Deeks were met with two morgue shots of the gunmen from the museum. "I see dead people," Deeks said as they stood in front of the large table in Ops.

"Do we know who they are, Nell?" Kensi asked.

"On the right is Herbert Uwe Meier," Nell told her as Meier's passport photo appeared under the morgue photo. "Meier is former German special forces. Retired in 2012 and joined Heimdallr Security, a private contractor working in some of the world's most dangerous locations."

"Dead guy number two?" Deeks wondered.

"That would be Mitchell Smith. Mitchell Smith is the son of the late Warren Smith, founder of Heimdallr," Eric said.

"The senior Smith was former South African Police, leaving the service when apartheid ended and opening Heimdallr," Granger added as he walked into the room. "Heimdallr is full of former special forces operatives who liked their jobs more than the rules they needed to follow to keep them. If you have the requisite skills and a taste for violence, Heimdallr is the place for you."

Eric put some old newspaper articles on the big screen. "They made their reputation when kidnapping of executives in a number of countries was all the rage in the late 1990's. Heimdallr would negotiate the return of the executive, run the ransom delivery and once the executive was safe at home with their loved ones, would find the kidnappers and, if rumors were true, snatch a child or two from the kidnappers. Once the ransom money was returned to Heimdallr, they'd return the kidnapping victims to their parents."

"That seems like a brutal way to stop clients from being kidnapped," Deeks said.

"Heimdallr's private army does not come cheap," Nell added. "The person or persons who sent them into the museum has money."

"If they were sent at all," Kensi mused. "What if Heimdallr was interested in one of the pieces at the museum." Kensi wondered if the bracelet was what Heimdallr or one of their clients wanted.

"Possible but unlikely," Eric said. "Heimdallr is largely a collection of modern day mercenaries who do jobs and then move on. Besides, The exhibit has moved from New York to Washington to Chicago and Las Vegas."

"Because when I think of ancient armor, I think of the Bellagio," Deeks joked.

"It was actually at the Wynn," Eric told him. "And while security at all of the museums or exhibition halls was tight, the items were moved by unmarked 18-wheelers,"

"If stockbroker Justin Marchetti could steal a nuke from trained DoD guards and security officers with a handful of mercenaries, armor in moving trucks with unarmed drivers would be more a training exercise than an actual assignment for the men and women of Heimdallr," Hetty said.

"Especially since the assignment included the boss' son," Granger added. "Did they say anything to either of you?" Granger turned his attention to Kensi and Deeks.

"My guy was shooting, not talking. That's Smith, right?" Deeks asked.

"It was," Eric said. "Kensi, was Mueller staggering when he got to you?"

"No, why?"

"He had a long cut across his torso," Nell told her.

"What kind of cut?" Kensi hoped she sounded normal.

"It was as if one of the blades from the suits of armor cut him." Nell put up the written medical examiner's notes.

"But of course they could not," Hetty explained. "None of the weapons were even sharpened. The swords in that museum couldn't cut through table butter."

"Dr. Shuler in the ME's office is looking at some of the shattered glass to see if some flying shard hit Mueller but there isn't enough bloody glass according to LAPD to make any of her scenarios work."

"Can we interview someone at Heimdallr?" Kensi asked.

"Heimdallr is run out of a single room office in the country of Andorra. The lack of extradition agreements with most countries along with its status as a tax haven and a vacation spot for the European ultra rich makes it the perfect place to run a squad modern day Hessians," Granger told her.

Kensi sighed. "So a dead end."

"The DoD is tracing the grenade. They have several prototypes in development from three different military contractors - RangeTech, Vorschlag Industries and Aegis Armament - but none have a working model," Nell said.

"Or at least not one any of the firms are sharing right now," Eric added. "I'm checking around but that grenade is cutting edge technology that nobody is claiming to have."

"So nothing but dead ends," Deeks said. "What about the SecNav's group? Is there anyone who would warrant some attention from Heimdallr?"

"No," Eric put the pictures of the tour members on the big screen, finally replacing the morgue shots. "Outside of the Commandant of the Marines, everyone here is a political appointee or a career politician. There aren't five parking tickets combined in the whole group. Everyone's reputation is spotless."

"I'll make a few discreet phone calls and to make sure everyone is on the up and up," Granger told what was left of the team as he walked to the door. "But I think we're running out of avenues of investigation."

"Except for who set up the exhibit in the first place," Kensi noted.

"The Secret Service isn't commenting, the museum said they got the offer of the exhibit and the donation through a tenured history professor at Columbia who is currently on a ten week sabbatical working with the Russian Academy of Arts," Granger replied. "I'll see what I can do through back channels but whoever wanted their involvement in this exhibit got what they paid for when it comes to anonymity."

As Granger left, Hetty turned her attention to what was left of her team. "Nell, I'd like you to use your contacts in the CIA to see who is responsible for the donation to the museum and the exhibit. Pieces like the ones in the museum sometimes carry legends in the intelligence community. If we can match one piece with a legend, perhaps that will lead us to why Heimdallr was hired. Eric, perhaps a document search for of moving companies may discover who paid to move the armor from the Wynn to the Design Museum."

Eric and Nell started working on their assignments, Hetty addressed Kensi and Deeks. "Miss Blye, while you look well today I believe you and Mr. Deeks could use an afternoon off." Hetty put her hand up before Kensi could object. "I am sure a few down hours would do you both the world of good now that your after-action reports are complete, especially since you were robbed your promised late start yesterday. Mr. Deeks, I spoke with Lt. Bates this morning and if you will be splitting time with NCIS and LAPD, you'll need some rest. Go home, your own homes and just rest. Don't make me track your phones and find you're surfing or working out at the gym."

Kensi was startled they were being put on the shelf. She felt fine. "Is there any way Deeks could get out..."

"I tried, Miss Blye but Lt. Bates had a point. The women of this city are being terrorized. If the FBI believes flooding the park with undercover operatives like Mr. Deeks will bring a swift end to this, every woman in Los Angeles is going to breath a little easier."

"And if he goes to Garfield Park or just decides to try a shopping mall?" Kensi asked.

"Then I'm going to be spending a lot of time with Artie."

Kensi felt something warm run up her arm and had an idea.

x-x-x

Two and a half hours before sunrise, Kensi pulled onto the 10 freeway with the non-crazy voice in her head telling her this was a bad idea.

"This really is a bad idea, you know," a true voice told her.

Kensi gasped as she saw Dom sitting in the back seat.

"Don't freak out Kensi, it's just me."

"You're..."

"Dead, yeah," Dom shrugged. "I told Sam but he never told you or Callen in all his grief. I always knew you guys would keep looking for me. And you found me."

"But we couldn't save you," Kensi said, her voice filled with regret.

"You did save me. Knowing that you guys would never stop looking, that one day that door would open and it would be you or Sam or Callen...that's how I survived."

"But you didn't."

"The last few minutes of my life were about my freedom. Do you know what a gift that was? I saved myself and you guys were going to finish the job. All good, well except the dying part." Dom climbed into the front passenger seat of the SUV. "I like the new guy. He makes you smile...I mean he made you smile from the beginning. You wouldn't let him see it because you're you but he knew."

"Deeks is a good man."

"Yes, he is. And he'd be really unhappy if he knew what you were doing. The secrets thing never works."

"I'm sitting talking to the ghost of my old partner about my new partner. How exactly am I supposed to explain that to him?"

"He'll listen. He has faith in you," Dom reassured Kensi. "But he'd still be really unhappy with what you're planning."

"Not planning anything. Just going for a run."

"In a park where the police think a serial rapist has attacked what, a dozen women."

"Eight."

"More like a dozen, Kensi. You of all people know the stats on reported rapes versus actual rapes."

"Then maybe it's a good idea to get him off the streets."

"So what LAPD can't do, you and your armor are going do."

"You know about this?" Kensi held up her right arm. "What am I saying, I'm talking to someone who has been dead for over five years. What do you know about this?" Kensi asked as she turned onto the 5.

"That's for you to learn, Kensi. I can't help you with that. Things don't work that way. But I can offer some advice: use caution when it comes to those who have information about the new addition to your life. Not everyone who offers help does so with a good heart."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you need to work this out. You will be offered help from people. You've already gotten some. You're getting some now. Your responsibility is to separate the good from the bad. Do that and you'll always succeed."

"None of this makes any sense. You're not here, you're buried near your parents' home in Virginia. This isn't possible."

"A wise man once said if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Dom told her.

"Einstein?"

"No, its actually a Sherlock Holmes quote but I first heard it in 'Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country'. My father and I watched it one night on the Sci-Fi Channel when I was in junior high. I liked the quote so much I Googled it. Saw that it was really from Sherlock Holmes. My mom came home from work a couple of days later with this massive book of all of Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. That's how I spent my summer, reading every story in that book. Well, that and computer camp."

Kensi chuckled. "You haven't changed."

"I was who I truly am in my time with NCIS. That's not true of some people. You had your secrets when I knew you. The new guy showed up with his own secrets, too. But they were secrets held by good people Beware of the secrets of wicked. They often use good actions to mask evil will."

Kensi pulled into the park and turned to Dom. She was alone. Taking a deep breath, she wondered again if she was losing her mind. She checked and rechecked the security camera locations on her phone, finding a blind spot to park the Caddy. Pulling on her hoodie, with her weapon, the bracelet and the front hoodie pocket loaded with helpful items, she took off for a 4:30AM run on North Vermont Canyon Road.

As she passed the tennis courts, she realized she wasn't alone. Dom was right, this was a bad idea and Deeks would be mortified. She slipped a crime scene glove on her left hand. If what she thought could happen would happen, she wouldn't need one on her right hand. Knowing that if her companion planned on attacking it would have to be before the trail cut down to the Drive, Kensi slowed her pace.

An arm came around, putting Kensi in a semi-sleeper hold. It didn't work as she head-butted her attacker from behind.

"Bitch," she heard as he pushed her to the ground on her right side.

The bracelet expanded to a gauntlet once again. A blade ran the length of the gauntlet, extending about eight inches past Kensi's hand. She stayed on the ground, hiding the weapon but feeling stronger, more confident with it. "You don't like a woman who can fight back, now do you?"

"Oh, I like it when you whores fight for a while. But only for a while," Kensi's attacker said as he moved to stand over her. "Let's see what's under that hood."

Kensi jumped up effortlessly, swinging her right arm toward her attacker. The blade sat just under his Adam's apple. "I don't really plan on fighting," Kensi told him. "Take off your shoes."

"What?"

"Shoes. Off. Now. With your feet - don't move your hands."

The assailant toed off the right shoe before struggling to remove the left.

"Lie flat on the ground when I pull this back a little," Kensi let the blade scrape down to his chest before stepping back. "If you make any move that I don't like, I'll gut you like a fish."

The man sunk to his knees before lying on the ground. Kensi moved the blade to the side of his neck.

"Very slowly, fold your hands behind your back. Any sudden move and..."

"You'll lop off my head. I get it."

"Oh, you will," Kensi said more to herself as she pulled the duct take out of the front hoodie pocket. The gauntlet retracted its blade to just a half-inch, making it easy for Kensi to bind his wrists. She did the same to his feet. In his back pocket, she found his Magnum Sharpie and phone.

"Roll over," Kensi ordered. The man complied, completely docile. Using the gauntlet hand to hold the attacker by his neck, Kensi slapped a piece of duct take over his mouth. With the marker, she wrote with her left hand the word "RAPIST" on his forehead. Pulling up his shirt, she wrote "COWARD" on his chest. "When they bring you in, you're going to confess. You tell LAPD these words are true. You don't want me coming back for another chat."

Looking at her handiwork, Kensi recapped the maker and put it next the man. Picking up his cell phone, Kensi pulled away from the bound man, "I'll call the cops, you're a bit tied up," Kensi snorted, amused by her joke. "The coyotes and the bobcats probably won't find you before LAPD will," Kensi took a few steps away before adding, "probably." Putting the phone on speaker, she dialed 911. She whispered to the operator that she was hiding from a man who tried to grab her in the park and was calling from his phone - he dropped it in the struggle. She then cut off the call. Throwing the phone next to her assailant, she said, "I hope you enjoy your final few minutes of freedom," as she ran off.

Kensi was shaking by the time she got to the SUV. The gauntlet was back in bracelet form. She checked the backseat - she was alone as got into the car and started to drive away. She pulled over just after driving past Sepulveda on the 405 to vomit. What did I do, she thought to herself, what did I do?

"You got a psycho off the streets," Renko told her as she got back in the SUV. "There are two bottles of water in the console. Deeks pretends earthquakes don't freak him and mostly they don't but he's afraid of getting stuck somewhere if there is a big one. He puts two new one-liter bottles of Smart Water in the console every week when you're not looking. Being Deeks, he has all these smart jokes planned about the Smart Water if you ever need them."

"He really does that?"

"Plan his jokes, occasionally. Smart Water is a layup, though." Renko smiled and answered her question. "He knows you'll never clean out the console. He has cans of tuna fish and a can opener in a neoprene lunch bag in the trunk for the same reason. He swaps those out every few weeks." He reached over and pulled a peanut butter cup wrapper out of the space between her car seat and the console. "You probably don't clean the trunk much either."

"You're back from the dead to call me a slob," Kensi said, pulling out a bottle of water. Opening the car door, she rinsed out her mouth a couple of times before starting the car.

"I'm back from the dead to make sure you get home OK," Renko said with a smile. "You don't need anyone to tell you you're a slob - you know that better than anyone."

"Besides being my dead co-pilot and slob shaming me, why are you here?" she asked as she returned the SUV to the road.

"I miss you, slob or not. Got a chance to say hi and took it. You know, I did the same thing whenever I was in L.A. after Hetty started sending me out on months-long assignments. I'd find you and we'd do something fun."

"Like the Glendale Planetarium to see a Pink Floyd Laser Show sort of fun?"

"That was cool and fun," Renko told her. "And Callen had just been shot and you needed some cool and fun in your life."

"My life is full of cool and fun things."

"Now. You talk to your Mom. You got Deeks. You, Deeks, Callen and Sam all sort of have each other. You're friends with the smart girl up in Ops. A couple of years ago, you had yourself, your investigation into your father's death and any class you could sign up for to prove you belonged at O.S.P."

"Now I also have this," Kensi showed him her right wrist.

"Yes you do. And I can't think of anyone who will use it better, tonight's little field trip included."

"I trapped a man..."

"Rapist."

"...who was..."

"Going to do to you what he did to a lot of other women and if you didn't stop him, he would have found some other poor woman tonight without your ability to protect herself."

"I'm arguing entrapment with a ghost."

"I miss you Kens. I can talk to you now. It's all good."

"How can you talk to me? Is it this?" she asked, showing Renko the bracelet.

"That's what you need to figure out. But trust yourself, trust the people you love. You won't go wrong there." And as quickly as he appeared, Mike Renko was gone.

Kensi left the Caddy half a block from her home. She walked to her doorstep and took a deep breath before going inside. Two hours before work - she could use the sleep.

x-x-x

The phone and her alarm clock were both going nuts. An exhausted Kensi slapped the alarm clock that had to be wrong - it wasn't 8:48 - she knew that. Except her ringing phone said the same thing. "Yeah," she answered.

"Oh my God, there you are," Nell whispered. "Why haven't you been answering anyone's calls?"

"I guess I slept through my alarm," Kensi threw off the covers and started to look for something to wear.

"Deeks said he texted you a couple of times and tried to call. I think he's worried."

"The last time I didn't answer my phone, a police helicopter landed on a beach and I got thrown out of a yoga retreat. Can you call..."

"I sent him a text when you answered. He is on his way over. You were supposed to pick him up and carpool in together."

"Crap, I completely forgot. We'll be in soon."

"No problem. Hetty is doing budgets, Granger is on some conference call about the museum exhibit. Otherwise, all's quiet here," Nell said before hanging up.

Kensi heard Deeks walk in just as she stepped out of the shower. "I know, I know, I slept through my alarm," she yelled through the door.

"I'll make you some coffee, get moving Kens," Deeks told her just as his phone rang.

Kensi was dressed and blow-drying her hair in the bathroom when Deeks walked in with her travel mug full of coffee and a convenience store pastry in clear wrapper. "Good news," he said, give her a rather through good morning kiss. "No Saturday night on the town for me and Artie."

"Bates assign someone else?" Kensi said, turning off the hair dryer.

"Better. Son of a bitch was caught last night."

"Really," Kensi made a production of wrapping up her hair dryer and putting it away - she suddenly couldn't look at him. "I thought you said LAPD was starting this weekend."

"They were starting tonight, actually. It seems a would-be victim got him before he got her. Hog-tied him with duct tape."

Not quite hog-tied, Kensi thought to herself. "Did the cameras in the park see how it happened?"

"Cameras have been down for months. That's part of the reason LAPD was going to flood the park this weekend."

"Do you have a name?" Kensi finally finished fussing with hair dryer.

"Marty Deeks," he answered with a silly smile when she finally looked at him.

Sighing, she pushed past him and found her boots by the couch. "The suspect's name." Kensi was genuinely curious.

"You ever hear of Tyler Witt Dalton?"

"He owns that private dinner club - Pacific Views or something - wait, he's the guy?"

"Looks like it. And with any luck, he's off the streets for a good long while."

"Well, thank God for that. Maybe we could make some Saturday plans," Kensi fell back into girlfriend mode. "Unless you and Artie needed a night on the town."

"No, Artie and I are good. But I wouldn't mind a night with my girlfriend tonight."

Kensi smiled as she took both the coffee and pastry from him. "I'll see what I can do."

Watching her walk to the door, Deeks knew something was very wrong and planned to find out exactly what that was.

-30-


	3. The Sky

**3.** "You are the sky. Everything else – it's just the weather." ― Pema Chödrön

* * *

If asked, Marty Deeks would readily admit he was proud of his educational achievements. He graduated from one of the most academically rigorous private high schools in Los Angeles after the police found him in a stolen car, ending his time at his less academically rigorous neighborhood high school. He graduated with honors from one of the top rated private universities on the West Coast. He finished in the top ten percent of his class from a law school that ranked among the top fifty in the country.

And none of that educational experience prepared him for the more than half-a-decade master class in all things Kensi Blye.

During his time working exclusively with the LAPD, Deeks really didn't have partners. He had associates in the legal bureau, handlers while working undercover. Jess Traynor on paper was his partner but he was undercover full-time as Dale Sully so she acted as his handler. Kensi Blye was his first partner and he decided a long time ago, would be his last. There was nobody he trusted more, nobody who knew him better and nobody he knew better.

So while the rest of the world was missing her ever so slightly distracted answers followed by her oh so slightly overeager follow-up replies, her odd staring down and to her right, her two straight days with long sleeve tops and now sleeping late, Deeks's mental inventory of Kensi concerns was complete. And while all the Kensi Blye course hours had him a wizard at identifying the troubled Kensi reactions, he had no idea what was the underlying cause. If he pushed too hard, Deeks knew he would be locked out of any solution.

Mentioning still be a bit out of sorts after oversleeping, Kensi skipped her lunchtime workout. Deeks rode his preferred exercise bike, hit the heavy bag for a while and worked on a strategy for getting Kensi to open up while he worked the speed bag. With no real plan, Deeks made his way to the showers and hoped for inspiration.

Eric and Nell were at Kensi's desk when he returned to the bullpen. "If you're conspiring for my birthday," Deeks told to the trio, "you still have weeks to go. No need to start your super-secret planning meetings now."

"You're never going to let me forget," Kensi said shaking her head.

"Ten, fifteen more years, max," Deeks said with a smile.

"We saw Callen yesterday morning," Nell steered the conversation back on topic.

"And?" Deeks was suddenly worried.

"Nothing too bad. He's bored, he's unhappy about going to rehab. This is his second big hospital stay this year," Eric said. "Sam just called because he's bored and Michelle won't let him do anything because it is his second shooting this year."

"And Jo is freaking out. This isn't what she expected," Nell added. "She said thinking about the times she saw Sam around Kam's school after "knee surgery" or "blowing through unused vacation time" made her realize Sam was probably recovering from injuries during those weeks."

Leaning against his desk, Deeks said, "Callen is in law enforcement. Jo had to know there was danger involved with what we do." Deeks liked Jo, liked Callen with Jo.

"Knowing it is one thing. Living it is another. She's a civilian who started dating a financial guy and wound up with someone completely different," Kensi said, growing troubled by her own words. "People usually run when things change or get hard."

Deeks shook his head to disagree. "If you really care about someone, you figure it out. You'd still be my friend if I decided to become Kelly Slater's..."

"Full-time groupie?" Eric said with a little snark.

"Keychain?" Nell jumped in.

"Houseboy?" Kensi forced a smile.

"I was going to say brilliant apprentice but fine, mock me," Deeks joked. "But I won't change any of my friendships with you guys just because I've become a surfing god."

"No, people leave," Kensi said, shaking her head. It nearly broke Deeks's heart.

"We need a plan with Callen," Deeks changed the subject. Turning to Eric and Nell, Deeks asked "You two were there yesterday morning, right?"

"We were carpooling!" Eric exclaimed.

The look Nell shot Eric made Deeks think they were doing a lot more than carpooling but they needed to walk that path themselves. "Thank you for saving the planet," Deeks deadpanned.

"He's having troubles with a very upset Jo, he's unhappy about the hospital food, he has nothing to do except all day except wait to be transferred to the rehab. Hetty's sent over some books, Eric brought him an iPad but he's just bored," Nell sighed.

"Since we can't do anything about the Jo or bored stuff, we should figure out something with food," Kensi said. "Set up a schedule where we could bring something he'd like to eat. Sam, Renko and I did that the last time he was shot and could eat normal food."

"We could swing by tonight," Deeks offered.

"What would we bring?" Kensi asked

"There's an In-and-Out right across the street from the hospital. We can smuggle in a burger, side of fries and a shake. Drop it off, tell him we'll be back in a couple of days with whatever he wants from wherever he wants," Deeks suggested.

"You know the location of an In-and-Out near the hospital?" Nell was surprised

"I'm partnered with Kensi," he joked. "It's best to know the better drive-thrus throughout the greater Los Angeles area."

"Really?" Kensi half-heartedly added.

"We'll bring him something tonight. The next time you two are carpooling," Deeks suggested with a smile, "maybe you can bring him something for breakfast. We could space this out every few days until he moves to rehab. Once he's at the rehab, we can revisit the plan based on where the rehab is and how bad their food may be."

"Sounds good," Nell said. "And we are carpooling."

"I have no doubt," Deeks smiled. Kensi wasn't joining in on the teasing. Attentive but not engaged, she was not being Kensi.

As Nell and Eric drifted back to Ops, Deeks walked over to Kensi's desk. "So we get out of here around five if nothing comes up, enjoy rush hour traffic to Westwood and feed Callen."

"Sounds like a plan," Kensi turned her attention back to the museum inventory.

"You OK?" Deeks asked once he was sure they were alone.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Two of the people you really care for were shot a couple of days ago. You and I wind up in a museum with a lot of civilians that is attacked by members of somebody's private army. You see another old friend get hurt in that little festive event. We've got no answers on why that happened and this morning you overslept for like the first time since I've met you. It wouldn't be a sign of any lack of Kensi Blye Bad-Assery for you to be a little off your game."

"There is nothing wrong with my game and it isn't like there haven't been things like this in the past. In the recent past, if you ask Michelle Hanna."

"Agreed, but if you need..."

"Deeks, I'm fine. Great as a matter of fact. Maybe sleeping late has its upside."

Deeks knew this wasn't a battle he was winning today. "Okay. And just for the record," he leaned in and said, "I'm not leaving."

Kensi's head shot up to look at him.

"I would certainly hope not, Mr. Deeks. We're shorthanded as it is," Hetty said as she walked into the bullpen.

"I was just reminding Kensi that with Tyler Dalton in custody, I'm not going anywhere. Full-time liaising for me," Deeks replied. "What's going on?"

"Granger has had no luck with the Secret Service concerning who donated the armor to the Design Museum but that may not be a concern going forward. The museum announced today that the owner of the collection is pulling it from public display immediately. He or she is concerned about the safety of such valuable items."

"Can we follow the exhibit pieces when they're moved? GPS them?" Kensi asked

"According to Mr. Dodd, a team arrived midday yesterday and the entire exhibit was crated and removed last night under the cover of darkness. It is long gone, I'm afraid," Hetty said, shaking her head. "The museum was wired a million dollars this morning for any needed repairs to the facility due to the attack."

"Is there some way to get information on people who collect armor. Maybe people familiar with what's on this inventory would know..."

"I spoke with several collectors I know both here in the U.S. and in Europe, Miss Blye. The mix of items featured in the exhibit is confusing to most of those I spoke to. Most collector specialize - 5th Century Barbarian armor, 13th Century Chainmail, 19th Century Chinese armor. A collector would have 15th Century Italian Platemail over 15th Century German Platemail armor or vice versa. This wide assortment at the exhibition has everyone stumped."

"Why is Granger having no luck with the Secret Service?" Deeks asked.

"Official Washington is eerily quiet about an attack with several high ranking officials present except to say that since the attackers are dead, nobody is overly concerned about what looks to be an isolated incident."

"Even though there were hired guns involved?"

"That seems odd to me too, Mr. Deeks. Miss Jones is poking around in the intelligence community to see what they know but so far, it is business as usual." Hetty was obviously concerned. "I overheard you speaking to Miss Jones and Mr. Beale about Mr. Callen."

"We're going to visit tonight. Sneak in some more Callen-like food," Deeks told Hetty.

"Excellent idea. Mr. Callen is expected to be moved to the rehab facility early next week. I've arranged for Mr. Hanna's physical therapy to occur at the same location so at least the two will be together during the day. If we can coordinate a schedule where Miss Jones or Mr. Beale visits one day over the weekend with you or Miss Blye stopping by Monday or Tuesday, I think Mr. Callen will have his fill of his co-workers."

Nell bounced down the stairs and motioned Hetty away.

"So In-and-Out for Callen, what do you want to eat tonight?" Deeks asked. "There's that new Hawaiian barbeque place on Bundy."

"I was thinking of calling it a night after we visit Callen."

"Kens?"

"Just tired. You know, when you oversleep you wind up being tired all day."

"After you just told me sleeping late has its upside," Deeks looked at her. "We don't have to do anything great, just hang out, watch some TV. Missed you last night. "

"I'd really just like to sleep in my own bed."

"Monty's at the groomers for the night - that's why you were picking me up, remember?" Deeks looked at Kensi. "Come on, we feed Callen, we feed ourselves and call it an early night."

"I suppose." It was obvious to Deeks that Kensi was not even up for this fight.

"It's a plan. And Kens," Deeks leaned over her desk one last time, "still not going anywhere. All in."

Kensi absently nodded her head before returning to the museum inventory list.

x-x-x

Callen was incredibly grateful for the food - a Double-Double, a side of fries and a vanilla shake. He told Kensi and Deeks the snack that was part of his runny and tasteless chicken potpie dinner was a one-ounce bag of kale and spinach chips. He didn't bother to open it. The nurse told him most of the patients didn't open them either. Deeks promised to stop by after surfing in a couple of days with a bacon and avocado omelet from Ronnie's Diner. Callen suggested holding the avocado and doubling the bacon.

Kensi drove straight to her apartment while Deeks picked up some Pad Thai. Kensi plowed through her Bangkok shrimp, proving that saying you are tired has little influence on one's appetite. After watching "Arrow" live and then the previous night's "The Flash" on the DVR, Kensi begged off any more television time after seeing the first story of the late local news was Griffin Park accused rapist Tyler Dalton babbling at his arraignment about a warrior goddess of the woods capturing him and bringing him to justice. That was more than enough for Kensi, who said she was going to bed. Deeks switched to the West Coast edition "Sports Center" before calling it a night himself.

And then waking up alone.

Deeks made a short tour of the apartment and didn't find Kensi. They were having a talk, he said to himself, something was up and he wanted to help. Just as he was getting out of the shower when his phone started to ring. It was Kensi.

"Where are you?" Deeks asked when he answered the phone.

"At my Mom's, can you come by?"

"Is something wrong? Do you need me to send a squad car?"

"No!" Kensi startled him. "Just you," she said in a calmer voice.

"I'll be there in like half-an-hour, I'm just out of the shower."

"I'm in the garage," Kensi told him before hanging up.

"She's in the garage," Deeks said to himself. None of this was good.

There was roadwork on the 405 so it was close to an hour before he got to Julia Feldman's garage. Kensi was sitting at the craft table Julia had against the garage wall. Bruce's Audi R8 Spyder and Julia's Porsche Cayenne were also in the garage. "Going to go joy-riding using Bruce's Audi? Because as an experienced joy-rider as a kid, the thrill ends when a black and white pulls you over."

"No," Kensi shook her head with a sad smile. "No joy-riding, I promise."

"Late teenage rebellion? Want to make-out and get caught by your Mom?" Deeks wiggled his eyebrows and smiled.

"She and Bruce are on a private cruise from Peru to the Galapagos Islands. Small boat, like fifty people. Eco-tourism Bruce called it."

"Very Bruce trip and very Bruce observation." Deeks watched Kensi nod her head in agreement. "So why exactly are we here."

"Do you remember the last time we were here?"

"Last and only. Yeah."

"What do you remember?"

"You were hurt. I wanted you to come with me but you had your own plans and I wound up hanging with Julia."

"She likes you."

"I'm likable," Deeks joked before turning serious. "Kens, why are we here? What's wrong? You can tell me anything. If you need me to help..."

"You believed me, then," Kensi started. "The last time we were here, you believed me. Believed I didn't kill any of the members of my father's squad. Believed that I ..."

"Kensi, I believe you. I believe in you."

"I don't even know where to start and I don't understand it all myself."

"Tell me what's going on and we'll figure it out."

"At the museum, something weird happened."

"Okay, what happened?" Deeks kept his tone calm but encouraging.

"It was weird. And then the men, Mueller and Smith, showed up."

"Did Mueller do something more than kick you? What happened Kensi?"

"I'm going to tell you something but it's going to change things. And that scares me. Because it's weird and not what you signed up for so I'll understand if you want to leave..."

"You can tell me anything and we'll deal with it. Things change all the time, we'll deal with it. Please tell me what happened. And I won't leave. That's not me."

Kensi looked at her right wrist and then at him. "Hit me."

"Excuse me?" Deeks was taken aback.

"Hit me, take a swing at me."

"No," Deeks was firm. "Absolutely not."

"Please," Kensi pleaded.

"Kens, I don't know what's wrong and I'm here to help you but I'm not taking a swing at you. Ever. You know I won't ever do that and you know damn well why. I don't hit women."

"It's just, I want to show you something and I'm not sure how to show you without being..." Kensi turned away. "I need to be under stress or attack," she started to mumble as she walked away.

Deeks walked up quietly behind Kensi and put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. Kensi whirled around with a sword pointed that his chest.

"Whoa!" Deeks jumped back.

"Yeah."

"What the hell?"

Kensi put her harm down, the sword scraping the floor. "I don't know. It comes out of my...I don't know."

Deeks's phone began to ring but he ignored it. "They'll leave a message."

"It could be important." she said as the blade retracted into the gauntlet but the gauntlet remained wrapped around her right hand and wrist.

"We have to talk." Deeks started fishing the phone out of his pocket.

"Answer your phone and I'll tell you everything I know. Which isn't much."

"Bates," Deeks told Kensi before answering the phone. "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Where are you?"

"Encino. Kensi was on her way to pick me up when an alarm went off at her mother's place in Encino. I decided to drive over and see if she needed help." Deeks watched in awe as the gauntlet folded back into the bracelet on Kensi's wrist. "So far, nothing odd here," Deeks lied.

"I have some intel on the museum attack. After you find out the newspaper delivery triggered a sensor with a flying LA Times, get to my office. Bring your Agent Blye too."

"I will. Be there when I can," Deeks said before disconnecting the phone. "Bates wants to talk to us about the museum. You and I need to talk."

"I don't want to talk where anyone can hear or see..."

"Which is why we're in your mother's garage."

"Deeks, I don't know what's going on. I don't understand any of this. I'm trusting you."

"Oh my God, where were you night before last?" Kensi looked at the ground and didn't answer as Deeks had an epiphany. "Oh God, you're the warrior goddess of the forest, aren't you? That's why you overslept."

"Dalton had to be stopped," Kensi told him, a lot more herself than she's been in days. "And I had to see if this really worked."

"What is it?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out."

"And that's why you've been all over that museum inventory list." Things were becoming clearer, if stranger, to Deeks.

"It's not on the inventory list. I've tried to match each piece on the list to find out about it but I can't find anything," Kensi sighed. "And now you need to go see Bates."

"He wants to see you, too. Did you do anything to identify yourself when you captured Dalton?"

"No. I was careful."

"Well, he wants to see the both of us. Is that thing going to go off? Should you leave it in the car?"

"It only goes off when I'm feeling threatened...that's why I asked you to hit me. When you started me..."

"Mr. Pointy showed up."

"Mr. Pointy?"

"Watched a lot of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" while I was recovering from my time with Sidorov. Hey, what if you are Buffy?" Deeks asked.

"A television character from the eighties."

"Not the eighties. Bite your tongue, well, actually don't, you may go all swordy on me again."

Kensi shook her head and smiled. The smile reached her eyes for the first time in days. "You're okay with this?"

"While I'm not sure of anything, I think we'll figure this out, Buffy."

"I'm not Buffy."

"You might be. The chose one. The one girl in the whole world with the skill to fight vampires and demons."

"There are no such things as vampires and demons."

"Said the woman who turned into the fifth musketeer just a minute ago." Deeks walked over to his car. "Athos, Porthos, Aramis, young D'Artagnan and Kensi."

"Why are you taking this so well?" Kensi asked, amazed.

With a smile and a wink, Deeks told her the truth. "Because you trusted me with your odd little secret. And together, we'll work it out."

x-x-x

Kensi waited for Deeks outside of Bates's office building. "I see your ascension to warrior forest goddess didn't lighten your lead foot," Deeks whispered in her ear as they walked to the elevator bank.

"What if Bates knows," Kensi asked.

"Knows what? About you and me? About you and Mr. Pointy?"

Kensi got on the elevator with Deeks right behind her. "I don't like that name."

"Ms. Pointy? Or does she prefer Miss"

"Shut up."

Once at Bates's office, Deeks knocked and let himself in with Kensi right behind him.

Bates pointed to the two guest chairs across from his desk, indicating he wanted Kensi and Deeks to sit. "Before we start," Bates leaned back in his chair, "I have a question for you Agent Blye."

Deeks looked at Kensi, a bit worried but she replied with ease, "I hope to have an answer."

"Are you here representing your agency or as his partner?"

"I'm here because Deeks said you wanted me at this meeting. I'm loyal to Deeks, if that's your concern. I work for NCIS but I trust Deeks with my life."

"Good to hear. I haven't been thrilled with some of your organization's decisions, especially when it comes to your partner."

"To tell the truth, Lieutenant," Kensi said, "some decisions that were made in over the last few years concerning everyone in our office has left us all with some questions. But I know we are doing good work, we are helping people. I like working with Deeks and the other agents on the team."

"Good to know. Have either of you heard of Kenneth Irons?"

"Gazillionare businessman, CEO of Vorschlag Industries," Deeks said. "Owns about half the world."

"He has contracts with the DoD to build everything from grenades to battlefield communication systems to war ships," Kensi added.

"Rumor has it he built on his already vast fortune by selling guns and bombs to both sides of international disputes in recent years until one side looks like it is going to win and then publicly side with that faction. Learned that from his father. Quite the prince." Bates opened a folder and showed it to Kensi and Deeks. "The collection of armor at the Design Museum was his. He and his family have procured all sorts of items - works of art, collections of everything from antique cars to tools of war - for decades. The armor collection has shown up in bits and pieces in a number of museums over the years. The exhibit at the museum was more a greatest hits collection of what he owns."

Kensi looked at a memo in the folder. It confirmed the exhibit items were on loan from Kenneth Irons. "This is an internal Secret Service memo."

"NCIS's Office of Special Projects isn't the only organization in this city with connections in Washington," Bates told her.

Deeks pointed to one of the people CC'd on the memo: Ron Bates.

"Vorschlag Industries has offices all over the world but you'll never guess who just moved to the West Coast and bought the U.S. Tower Building."

"Kenneth Irons," Deeks and Kensi said simultaneously.

"Ah, departmental and agency consensus," Bates smiled. "When you take this to your agency, Agent Blye..."

"Kensi, please."

"Kensi, when you take this to NCIS, two things. One, how I got the memo stays out of this. Two, this is LAPD provided intelligence. If there is credit to be assigned, it belongs to your partner and to you because of his ties with LAPD."

"Agreed," Kensi said with a smile just as her phone started to ring. "I have to take this," Kensi apologized as she walked from the room.

"I'm surprised by her answer," Bates said after Kensi left. "I thought they were all loyal to the Miniature Mistress of Mayhem."

"It's been a rough few years and I'm not talking about what happened in the museum a few days ago."

"You looking out for yourself."

"Always."

"Good. Show the Slight Svengali that LAPD gets things done."

Kensi was waving to Deeks at the elevator bank when he left Bates office. "That was Nell," she said, holding her phone.

"What's up?" Deeks asked as he joined her.

"Hetty was recalled to DC late yesterday afternoon. She was on a red-eye flight out and is in front of an intelligence committee again," Kensi whispered.

"Why?" Deeks asked, when they were alone in an elevator.

"Last spring's Russia trip."

"We found the tanker. Several people with significant terrorist ties are in custody or dead. That was a win. You got a ribbon, LAPD got a nice note for my personnel file about my work in Moscow."

"Hetty's on a short leash. They could be coming for her again. And that means coming for us too."

x-x-x

Walking into the bullpen, both Kensi and Deeks saw Granger sitting at Hetty's desk on the phone, Nell standing next to him, placing open file folders on the desk.

"Not good," Kensi said.

"Not good at all."

"No, not good at all," Eric walked into the bullpen. "The SecNav's office didn't know about the hearing until Hetty was halfway to DC. Hetty has enough enemies in the intelligence community - half pissed off by what's she's done, half jealous - that this could be another attempt to take her down."

"Is this about Callen?" Kensi asked.

"Could be. Probably not, though. Hetty was called in, not a mention of Callen. Nell said they wanted financial records, not personnel information."

"Not good," Kensi said again.

"Not good at all," Deeks repeated.

Kensi got herself a cup of coffee from the office pot, Deeks did the same. Eric was sitting at Sam's desk when Granger and Nell entered the bullpen.

"How bad is it?" Kensi asked.

Granger shrugged. "From what I understand, this looks to be a standard budget hearing, just a very sudden one."

"Does someone want Hetty out of L.A.? That's what happened that last time she was in D.C." Deeks said.

"Or is she there for a distraction? Director Vance did that a few years ago," Kensi said with Eric nodding as he remembered that trip too.

"Both are possible. The committee may just want Hetty a little off her game during the hearing," Nell said. "After the fall of 2014, however, Hetty being recalled to Washington is not going to be a good thing."

"What's going on with you two?" Granger asked Kensi and Deeks.

"We may have a lead on who owns the collection of armor on loan to the Design Museum. LAPD provided a lead. I thought Kensi and I would check it out."

"Good. Just as with last fall, you probably want to make yourselves scarce while Hetty is holding back the bureaucratic hoards." Granger looked around. "Go talk to whoever you need to. When you're done, work out of the boat shed until Hetty returns."

Kensi took her coffee, Deeks did the same.

"Oh, Kens," Nell called to her friend as she and Deeks walked to the Mission door. "Hetty left me a message, you have your fencing lesson today at 4PM."

Kensi looked at Deeks surprised. "No problem Nell."

While they both suddenly had suspicions about Kensi's fencing lessons, Deeks and Kensi agreed to not talk about their morning near earwigs, cell phones or in any NCIS facility. That included the Caddy. The ride to Vorschlag's new corporate offices in the old U.S. Bank Tower building, now being rebranded as Vorschlag West, was filled with dinner plans, weekend plans and the next time they should visit Callen with smuggled in food.

The newly named Vorschlag West building was undergoing renovations, adding the Vorschlag logo tastefully throughout the entrance to the building. Construction teams were removing the U.S. Bank signage from the top of the building, adding a giant "V" logo.

Kensi and Deeks flashed their badges to the lobby security desk, asking to see Kenneth Irons. Figuring they'd get the run around for a while, they watched the security officer made a call. Not thirty seconds after the call ended, complete with a promise that someone would be their shortly, a tall, well-built, well-dressed man appeared. "Ms. Blye, I'm here to escort you to see Mr. Irons."

"I'm here to see Mr. Irons, too," Deeks made clear.

"Allow me to call Mr. Irons's office, I was told just Ms. Blye was here."

The man took three steps away from Kensi and Deeks as he pulled out his phone. The call didn't last long. "My apologies Mr. Deeks, there was a thought that only Ms. Blye was requesting an opportunity to see Mr. Irons. If you'll follow me," the well-dressed man pointed to an elevator bank.

At the elevator bank, the well-dressed man took a small ring of keys from his pocket and called for a private elevator. Once in, another key was needed to go to the building's top office suite. At the 71st floor, the well-dressed man pointed to a large marble reception desk and bid his charges a good day.

One of the two receptionists was waiting for Kensi and Deeks. She escorted them to a large spiral staircase and walked them up to the 72nd floor. The 72nd floor was divided in half. A large conference room with stunning views west as far as the eye could see. Deeks was pretty sure he could see Catalina Island if he looked hard enough. The east side of the office was a giant white marble wall with an assistant's desk at the end of the hall. The 71st floor receptionist left Kensi and Deeks with the assistant before returning to her station.

After an offer of coffee, tea or bottled water, the assistant, a stylish woman in her mid-thirties, knocked on the large oak door alongside her desk. Partially opening the door, the assistant spoke with office's occupant. The assistant opened the door completely and motioned for Kensi and Deeks to enter.

The office was magnificent. The view was clear to the Angeles National Forest and everything in between. At a large, antique desk, a man stood and walked toward Kensi and Deeks. He was tall, muscular and quite soft spoken. "Good morning, Kensi Blye," he said as he stood before her with a predatory smile. "I've been expecting you."

-30-

 **Author's note** : The fictional ownership change to the U.S. Bank Tower building in Los Angeles is, well, fictional.


	4. Power

**4.** "The object of power is power." - George Orwell

* * *

Kenneth Irons walked across the room wearing a Desmond Merrion hand-tailored suit that looked more like an extension of his power and position than even the most expensive business attire. "Good morning, Kensi Blye. I've been expecting you."

"Excuse me?" Kensi was taken aback as Irons lead her with Deeks in tow across his expansive office.

Irons eyed Deeks. "And you must be Martin."

"I must be." Deeks took out his badge and showed it to their host. "Marty Deeks, LAPD and you seem to know Special Agent Blye from NCIS."

"Know of her, this is our first meeting. Kensi was in the Museum of Design earlier this week."

"As were the Secretaries of the Navy, Air Force and Army, the Commandant of the Marines, several high ranking staffers working with those officials and their security team members along with Detective Deeks," Kensi told Irons. "Are you expecting them to visit you as well? The security person who brought us up to your office was surprised Detective Deeks was here."

"I expected only to see you Kensi but I am here to offer any assistance or answer any question posed by either the Los Angeles Police Department or NCIS," Irons pointed to the two guest chairs across from his massive desk as he returned to his impressive executive chair. "How may I be of assistance?"

Deeks took the lead after they sat. "Any particular reason you had the armor exhibit removed from the Design Museum?"

"What a clever question, Martin. If I reply, you not only learn the answer to your question but you confirm that I am the anonymous donor. Well done."

"That's not an answer. Mr. Irons."

"No, Martin, it is not," Irons replied. After a beat he said, "The items were on loan from my personal collection but after the attack, concerns for the safety of the pieces and preserving their historical legacy made it a logical though heartbreaking decision to remove them from the museum and public view."

"Why all the secrecy about your involvement in the exhibit?" Kensi asked.

"As I'm sure you know, the exhibit attracted a number of protesters who seem to believe that design is only about a piece of furniture or an audio device transformed into a wearable item. My name being attached to such a controversial exhibit would only bring more self-appointed morality scolds to the media."

"Self-appointed morality scolds?" Kensi asked.

"My company, Vorschlag Industries, is involved in any number of fields that attract protestors. Coal, oil and nuclear energy, fracking, contracts to build weapons, war ships and other equipment for the DoD here in the United States and for willing clients throughout the world. Vorschlag own banks, media companies, pharmaceutical firms, manufacturing and agricultural concerns. When an organization's interests are as diverse of Vorschlag's, there will always be a group waiting to protest. When the museum was breached, I realized that the private security employed by the facility was not enough to protect the collection."

"Where is the collection?" Kensi asked.

"Escorted by several of Vorschlag's top security professionals, it is being returned to New York where I have a curator in my employ, a Dr. Daniel Goodman. Dr. Goodman is fielding calls from different museums about the collection. The Tokyo National Museum is looking to expand their samurai collection and have requested two pieces as a permanent loan. A member of the British Royal family wants one piece for some 500th Anniversary exhibit in London. The Royals are always celebrating something several hundred years old and regularly contact my offices about loans."

Kensi followed up. "Nothing was lost or damaged during the attack?"

"Every piece I own was returned to me."

Deeks chucked. "Artful answer."

"Thank you," Irons replied.

Kensi rephrased her original question. "Were any pieces in the museum as part of your collection not returned to you?"

"Is there any piece you are particularly interested in, Kensi?"

"Yes, a gauntlet in the display case. It had a red stone, possibly a ruby, on one of the knuckles."

"Your interest in that piece is what, Kensi? And is this a conversation you are comfortable having with Martin present?"

"Detective Deeks is my partner. He's not going anywhere."

Deeks shook his head no. "Nope."

Irons tone, while still soft, turned a bit more forceful. "Then ask the question you really want answered, Kensi. I'm waiting to join a conference call about a recent business acquisition and while I'd love to spend time with both and your partner, the business of Vorschlag Industries is business."

"What's this piece?" Kensi pulled up her jacket and shirt sleeve, showing the bracelet on her right wrist.

"Why, it's the Witchblade," Irons answered calmly with a smile.

"The Witchblade, of course," Kensi mused. "What exactly is it?"

"Why don't you tell me about it Kensi? What has the Witchblade done with you and what have you done with the Witchblade?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Irons but what do you mean?" Kensi asked.

"The papers today, the morning news programs on both television and radio were all discussing the warrior goddess of the forest, complete with her sword of justice," Irons said with a knowing smile. "Just so I know going forward, will you be answering to Special Agent Blye or would you like your goddess or warrior titles included in your professional title and credentials?"

A knock on the door stopped any comment Kensi was going to make. A younger man entered the office. Like Irons, he was tall, well-built and well-dressed. "My apologies sir, but the bank must hear from you immediately. The deal cannot be completed without out official authorization directly from you."

"I am sorry Kensi, Martin. This acquisition has been in the works for quite some time," Irons started to stand. "Are you available for dinner tomorrow night, Kensi? Perhaps we can discuss this at dinner tomorrow evening at my home." After a slight pause, Irons added, "Martin, you of course are invited."

"Of course," Deeks said as he and Kensi stood.

"Then it is a plan for Friday night. Ian" Irons addressed the man in the room, "tell Diana to give Agent Blye and Detective Deeks my address and then return to my office. I'll need the name of the president of the Bank of Andorra." Andorra caught both Kensi's and Deeks's attentions.

"Right away, sir," Ian said as he left.

"I'll expect you at eight," Irons told Kensi and Deeks. "And we do dress for dinner."

"Of course we do," Deeks said.

"I look forward to discussing your recent addition along with the advantages and changes it brings as well as answering any questions you may have."

As Kensi and Deeks left the office, the younger man passed them, stopping just for a moment to look Kensi over head to toe. "Diana has directions to Mr. Irons's home waiting for you at her desk."

Diana had the directions personalized from Kensi's apartment and Deeks's place directly to Irons's home. "He knows where we live," Deeks whispered in the elevator.

Eyeing the security camera in the elevator, Kensi just nodded. Deeks understood. After walking to their car, he pulled out his cellphone and called Nell.

"Hey, what do you have?" Nell asked.

"Where was Heimdallr located again?" he asked, earning a knowing look from Kensi as she started the car.

"Andorra but that was just an office and a place to have a corporate address in a tax haven."

"Can you see if the Bank of Andorra handled the sale of Heimdallr today? And if that sale was to Vorschlag Industries?"

"OK. Why?"

"One of Bates's contacts thought that Kenneth Irons donated the armor to the Design Museum."

"The Kenneth Irons?"

"One and the same," Deeks answered.

"No wonder the Secret Service was keeping that quiet. Irons has a lot of pull."

"Can you get everything you can on Irons, his love of armor and any business deals he's been involved with recently? Kensi and I just had an audience with the man."

"No problem. You guys on your way back?"

"We are. Kensi missed her usual big breakfast checking out something at her mom's so we're going to get an early lunch. Maybe stop off at the Richeeze truck and get something for us, you and Eric. We could all have lunch in the boat shed."

"Great idea! Mamma Mia for me, Y.O.L.O for Eric and sweet potato fries for both of us."

"Done." Deeks disconnected. "Figured we could pull up about a block away, have a nice quiet chat on the way to the truck," Deeks suggested.

Kensi smiled. "Earwigs and phones in the car?"

"Excellent idea," Deeks told her before making a second call. This time it was to Roger Bates. "Hey, Lieutenant, Kensi and I got in to see Irons."

"You two? How? I'd figure a man like Irons would have ten layers of lawyers, private security people and public relations staff to keep him away from the locals and feds," Bates said.

"He wanted to see the NCIS Agent and LAPD Detective who saved his collection."

"I'm pretty sure LAPD didn't give anyone from Vorschlag your name."

"I'm pretty sure he has enough juice with the feds or the DoD to get my name or Kensi's name from one of the members of the SecNav's traveling party or any of her counterparts."

"Hold on a sec," Bates put Deeks on hold. "Goddammit," signaled Bates's return.

"Lieutenant?"

"I was going to ask you to come in now but things have all gone to hell. Tyler Dalton was just found dead in his cell. I'll call you later but you need come in."

"Dalton's dead?" Deeks said. Kensi turned to stare at Deeks.

"Went to sleep last night, didn't wake up this morning. Call me this afternoon before you come in but I want a debrief," Bates ordered before hanging up.

"What happened to Dalton?"

"Bates said he didn't wake up this morning."

"Any..."

"Bates just got the call, I'll try to get more from him later." Deeks told her honestly, "The world's better without him."

Kensi seemed troubled as she drove to the 4th Street exit. Locking their phones and earwigs in the glove box, Kensi left the Caddy about two blocks from Richeeze trucks. "So, where do we start?" Kensi asked.

"I don't trust or like Irons. I don't trust or like the idea that Hetty is giving you fencing lessons in some down time just before you go all blade-y. I don't trust or like that Hetty couldn't pull a string or two and find out it was Irons's armor. I don't trust or like that Hetty is suddenly out of town and under fire again."

"Wow," Kensi was surprised by Deeks's list. "Anything you do trust or like?"

"You," Deeks said sincerely.

"Smart man," Kensi said with a smile. "First things first, what do we tell them at the office?"

"We got in to see Irons who was waiting to hear from some law enforcement agency. He confirmed he owned the collection and is now sending it worldwide. He's grateful it is all safe."

"Who do we tell anyone about dinner tomorrow?"

"What you and I do on our time is what you and I do on our time. Do you know where Eric and Nell are eating tomorrow?"

"Good point. But if you don't trust Irons, and believe me I don't trust Irons either, shouldn't someone know where we are? All we know about Irons's intentions right now is that he's keeping my secret."

"Right now being the important words. And right now your secret's main witness outside of me was found dead in his cell this morning. As for Kenny-boy, I doubt he's planning to reenact the Red Wedding at dinner tomorrow night, especially since one of his guest can fight back."

"Normally I'd agree but I have no idea what this thing is. I mean, I can't even take this off my arm," Kensi showed Deeks the bracelet and tried to remove it. This time, the cuff easily slipped off her wrist.

"Yeah, you can't take that off at all," Deeks joked.

"What the hell?" Kensi put the bracelet back on her arm and removed it again. "I've been trying to take this off since I was in the ambulance outside of the museum. It would burn my fingers every time I touched it. It would..."

"I believe you."

"This is so weird," Kensi shook her head as they started to wait on line for the food truck. "Why do you believe any of this?"

"Well, besides this morning's little exhibition of you making a point, you believe it. I trust you."

"Thank you." Kensi was relieved.

"Bates wants to talk to me. I figured while you take your fencing class, I can see Bates. I'm fine with us going to dinner with Irons tomorrow night without any back-up but Bates may not be a bad choice to know what's going on."

"We could tell Nell or Eric."

"If they were available, I'd tell Callen or Sam. But they're not."

"You don't trust Nell, or Eric?"

"I trust them both but they don't know the whole picture."

"You're going to tell Bates about this?" Kensi lifted her arm.

"No. But Bates, like Callen and Sam, is used to being ninety percent read in on most cases and not one hundred percent. I can sell Bates on us going to dinner tomorrow night. Irons was certainly interested in you. I'm tagging along. All that's true."

"And you don't think I can sell that to Nell or Eric."

"I'm sure you can. I'm sure we can. And your corner of NCIS will want to wire us up, track everything." While nobody was all that close to them on line and far too involved with their phones to be paying attention anyway, Deeks leaned over and whispered in Kensi's ear, "Do you want to have a Witchblade conversation with Irons knowing Nell and Eric are listening?"

"They'd think he's crazy," Kensi said as Deeks pulled back.

"And if Hetty's fencing lessons for you were less good fortune and more that she knew something?"

"Do you believe that?" Kensi wasn't so sure Hetty's choice of professional development was all that random either.

Deeks faced Kensi and held her right hand. "After what you showed me this morning, I'm opening myself to all sorts of possibilities."

She leaned in toward him. "There are some other things I haven't told you. It just isn't Ms. Pointy."

Deeks smiled. "I knew that name would stick."

"But if we're locking up our phones and earwigs..."

"And having conversations in your Mom's garage," Deeks started formulating a plan. "Pack a bag for tomorrow night. We may do a little staycation after our dinner with the real life Irons man. Just you and me, no earwigs and we'll put our phones in another room."

"OK."

"Kens, we're good?"

Taking a deep breath and smiling at him, Kensi agreed, "Real good."

"What can I get you two?" the fellow manning the food truck asked.

x-x-x

Kensi and Deeks were greeted by a happy to be out of Ops Nell and Eric. Deeks made a mental note to try to have Nell back in the field during Callen's and Sam's rehabs. After she last fall's shoot out at one of Hetty's mansions, Nell did little field work for weeks. She needed to keep up her skills. Eric had a supply of Bubbly Cola in a mini-fridge in the boat shed's second floor bedroom. With Callen no longer living in the facility, Eric had a few items stored for when he wanted to get out of Ops and still needed to work.

Well-fed and feeling good, Nell started the briefing on Kenneth Irons using the television screen in the boat shed. "Kenneth Irons IV has been running Vorschlag Industries since his father had a stroke and disappeared from public sight in the mid-1990. The third Kenneth Irons inherited the business from Kenneth Irons II and you get the picture."

"So he's running the family business," Kensi said.

"Vorschlag is the ultimate family business - no stockholders other than Irons and his family members, which currently is Irons and his long hidden father. Vorschlag is involved in nearly every industry imaginable. Their scope is vast. On several occasions governments, both the US and foreign countries, have tried to block Vorschlag's growth but political pressure, bribes or the out and out removal of policymakers trying to interfere with Vorschlag plans only slowed the company's dominance, not stopped it. When the European Union tried to stop a cell phone deal two years ago, Vorschlag walked away. Four weeks later, a cell phone outage left several major European cities without their phones."

"I remember that. It was Fuchs Communications," Kensi said. "There were concerns about terrorism."

"Less terrorism, more industrial espionage. It couldn't be proven but the company Vorschlag was interested in buying was the source the failure. Vorschlag kindly offered to return service to the affected areas, gratis. Once service was returned, politicians revisited the Vorschlag take over."

"Wouldn't that make Vorschlag a suspect?" Deeks asked, not remembering this event at all until he saw the dates - June of 2013. He was busy with the dentist.

"No. Vorschlag told the European Union they weren't interested in the deal anymore. When Fuchs Communications started to go under, Vorschlag was seen as a savior when they negotiated a quick purchase of the troubled Fuchs Communications. As part of the agreement to buy Fuchs, there was a long term deal with the Union that kept their regulators out of Vorschlag's business for the next ten years. Vorschlag got Fuchs for ten cents on the dollar, or Euro. There hasn't been a blip in cell service since across Europe since."

"What is the deal with the armor?" Deeks asked. "Shouldn't he be collecting movie star girlfriends and sport teams?"

"For generations, the Irons family has collected whatever they could get their hands on," Eric said. "The family crest could read 'he who has the most toys when he dies wins.' The family owns art, cars, memorabilia of all kinds. And he does own two soccer clubs in Europe." Eric threw up to team logos on the television screen. "Rumor has it Irons the father has the largest collection of Nazi memorabilia in the world. It is a rumor, not surprisingly, that Vorschlag's public relations department always denies and threatens legal action when mentioned."

Nell continued the briefing. "Since Irons and Vorschlag attract scrutiny from both government agencies and anti-corporation types, Kenneth Irons number four has been generous with his family's collections. He opened a museum in lower Manhattan when construction began on the new World Trade Center. The area was in desperate need of a tourist site in the middle of all the work being done and the Irons Center of Art and Culture was just that. Picassos, Vermeers, Van Goghs all are in the museum as is a concert room where Irons pays top dollar to performers who record concerts he puts on DVD and makes available for free to schools and cultural institutions"

"Buying respectability," Kensi noted.

"And not just in fields of culture," Nell put up press released from Vorschlag on the screen. "Vorschlag's pharmaceutical arm has been generous with antimalarials and cholera vaccines. They've been in the forefront of AIDS medicine and Ebola treatments. Advocates for orphan diseases often go to Vorschlag for help."

"So he's a kind master of the universe," Kensi said.

"Yes and no. In the age of the high profile CEO, Irons has been seen as a charitable force. But other business decisions made by Irons and really all the other family members who ran Vorschlag over the years crushed opponents quietly and efficiently. Then there's also the how the family fortune has been made."

"Heard they liked to covertly work both sides of the street during a war until one side was winning and then publicly announce their support," Deeks parroted Bates's analysis.

"Oh, that's the lighter side of what they've done. Vorschlag's roots go back hundreds of years. They were leaders in the slave trade during the last millennium, had their hand in drug and prostitution rings throughout Europe and on the East Coast going back decades."

"Why would anyone that wealthy be involved in all that? He could lose everything on under RICO statutes."

"Because they could," Granger said as he walked into the boat shed. "You two really got in to see Irons?"

"We really did," Deeks said.

"He was grateful that Deeks and I protected his armor."

"He should be grateful the Secret Service and half the intelligence community protected his involvement in the exhibit. How did LAPD figure this out?"

"Bates is former military intelligence," Deeks told Granger. "He's connected."

"Maybe he should join our liaison team," Granger mused. "Beale, pull up Intelligence File Lincolnshire 7-6-2-5. Password is b-a-e-r-i-n-n, all lower case letters."

Eric found and opened the file, putting two letters on the screen.

"Vorschlag Industries tried to purchase Heimdallr after the death of Warren Smith. The recently deceased Mitchell Smith turned down Vorschlag's offer stating his father was never interested in Heimdallr being anything but an independent firm."

"That was a few years ago," Deeks noted the date on top of the purchase offer.

"Vorschlag is known for their ability to wait out competition," Granger said as a new item as added to the file. "Open that, Eric."

Eric opened the document - a deal memo from the Bank of Andorra.

"Vorschlag purchased Heimdallr this afternoon for about half of what they offered after Warren Smith's death. Their employees' benefits packages remain the same. The only difference besides the price is Mitchell Smith is out of the picture."

"Did Irons attack his own collection to complete the deal on Heimdallr?" Nell asked.

"It was very convenient that the one man standing in the way of the deal was killed in the attack on Irons's prized collection," Granger addressed the team. "And the man who killed him was a member of law enforcement who was in no way connected to Irons's business interests."

"If Irons is behind this, we were used," Kensi said.

"Vorschlag's reputation has always been about the long term. They don't like losing money or business opportunities early but they make up any losses and usually punish those who slowed down their plans," Granger said. "And he met with the two of you."

"We did save his stuff," Deeks said.

"That should earn you a thank you form letter to your bosses, not a sit down with the man - official or unofficial."

"When did he move his business to Los Angeles?" Kensi asked. "All the intel about him on screen is New York based."

"According to a Forbes article," Nell helpfully put the article on the TV screen, "Vorschlag's growing interest in tech companies had some of his business interest on the West Coast. He told the magazine that with Vorschlag's worldwide interests that he can run the company anywhere, why not try a warmer climate."

"If you hear from Irons going forward, I want a full report," Granger told Kensi and Deeks.

"Going forward, no problem," Deeks hedged.

"Hetty will be in D.C. for the weekend. The budget hearings went well. Working with the Russians last May, which Hetty thought would be the committee's biggest concern, was praised as a model of cooperation between two countries fighting terrorism. Director Vance has her working several members of Congress and the Department of Defense for budgetary reasons."

"Is Hetty back in official Washington's good graces?" Nell asked.

"Like a phoenix rising from the ashes," Granger said.

"Everybody loves a comeback story," Deeks said without much enthusiasm. "Kensi has to go off to fence, I need to talk to LAPD about this morning."

"Do what you need to do," Granger said as he started to the door. "Good work getting in to see Irons this morning."

x-x-x

Deeks dropped Kensi off at a ballet studio downtown where she was taking her fencing lessons. Finally able to remove the bracelet - Witchblade, Kensi had to keep reminding herself - she secured it along with her weapon in her locker. Marie Fournier, Kensi's usual instructor, was not available for the lesson but her former Olympian husband Gerard was. Kensi found her skills were a bit sharper, her decision-making a bit quicker. She was not Gerard's equal - he had been fencing for nearly forty years - but she was more than holding her own. She wondered if it was residual impact of the Witchblade or if she was just getting better.

While Kensi fenced, Deeks drove over to Bates's office. An army of television news trucks were parked outside of both the Police Administrative Building and Bates's nearby building. The death of Tyler Dalton was leading every newscast, ending interest in his bizarre story of the forest's warrior goddess.

"Tell me about Irons," Bates said as Deeks dropped into his boss's guest chair.

"Exactly what you though he'd be. Rich, powerful, inappropriately interested in Agent Blye," Deeks started his version of events for Bates.

"Your partner is a beautiful woman, something I'm sure you've noticed."

"I have."

"How inappropriately interested in Agent Blye is Irons?"

"We've been invited to dinner tomorrow as a thank you for saving his armor. Oh, and he dresses for dinner."

"You're getting a private dinner with one of the most powerful men in the world? I'd say well done but I have a feeling Irons seeing Agent Blye all dolled up may be the reason over seeing you in one of your old lawyer suits."

"The company that employed the mercenaries who attacked the museum was just bought by Vorschlag after turning Irons down a few years back. The son of the company's founder was one of the dead in the museum."

"So, either the firm surrendered quickly to avoid being sued or Irons is a far more vindictive man than the typical CEO."

"I was wondering if I could borrow a car and get some burner phones for tomorrow's dinner."

"Any reason you need this?"

"NCIS was breached last year when someone inappropriately interested in Hetty put a tracker on Sam Hanna's car."

"You don't want Irons to find out where Agent Blye lives."

"Oh, he already knows. He gave us personalized directions to his mansion," Deeks pulled out the paper Irons's assistant gave him and showed it to his boss. "No, I figure I'll leave the car off by LA Live after dinner and CSU can check it for trackers, bugs, whatever."

"Good idea. I'll get cell phones you can use to clone your own phones. Put them back in the trunk after the dinner." Bates returned the directions to Deeks.

"I have a feeling he can trace us as much as he wants but I'm looking for a safe house for Kensi and me for after our dinner with Irons."

"Bernhart's?"

"That's what I was thinking."

"You know he sold the place on Wilshire..."

"And bought a residence at LA Live. Figure I'd ditch LAPD's loaner there and hide out with Kensi at Matt's. We could do a debrief with you in the morning."

"Where is NCIS in all this?"

"Hetty is in D.C. working some budget committee. We'll fill her in when she flies back."

"They still allow her to go D.C. after the way she used them last year?"

Deeks was surprised. "You know about that?"

"That, the White Ghost, what was done to your partner, how you saved the day. I have a friend or two back east."

"I wrote a report but the Department of Defense immediately classified it."

"I got notification you were out of country for a few days through back-channels and twenty four hours later was remarkably sent to D.C. myself for a review of current interrogation techniques. A friend passed along the basics of what happened since the plan was to go after Kensi's boss. My friend wanted LAPD to know you were not going to be in trouble. In fact, you did all the right things kid, including saving your partner and her rescue team. The full report was leaked to me last fall when Mike Thomas was going after the Tiny Non-cooperative Operative."

"Do you know Thomas?"

"Good investigator, better politician. He wants to be governor of Florida one of these days and getting money out of whatever slush funds agencies like NCIS, the CIA or the FBI have and to the hardworking and honest agents in the field would work well with the good people of the Sunshine State," Bates explained. "I was supposed to get all riled up that you were out of the country for a few days but you've been out of the country before and since Agent Blye matters to both the NCIS team and to you, I didn't see any real reason to play into Thomas's hand. I did contact Ms. Lange when she was returned to her position and told her she owed me one for removing you from the country without the courtesy of a phone call before or after the operation."

"Don't be offended. Hetty removed Kensi from the U.S. without the courtesy of knowing why she was being reassigned."

"I know the whole story. If your partner gets fed up with being a fed, LAPD offers more than a competitive salary structure and excellent benefits. In fact, I already have an undercover officer on a longtime liaison assignment that might just be recalled to work as her partner."

Deeks smiled. "Kensi and I can do a debrief for you Saturday morning."

"Tell me when you've left his probably over-upholstered mansion and we'll set up a time then for Saturday morning. Meanwhile, I'll keep digging around on Irons. He's supposedly notorious about not wanting to have his picture taken."

"Vampire?" Deeks joked to Bates but after the last few hours wasn't entirely sure he was wrong.

"Nah, probably just some rich guy weirdness. I'll have the car at the motor pool tomorrow no later than four, the phones will be the trunk. Do not get yourself killed and do not kill Irons. Tyler Dalton's death is already a big enough headache for the department."

"What did happen to him?" Deeks was interested but didn't want to seem too interested.

"Early coroner's report says there isn't a mark on him. Tox screen was done but it really looks like he went to bed and didn't wake up. We do have a way to change the subject, however."

"What's that?"

"Dalton kept a journal on an old laptop found in his home. No internet access for this laptop - may be the first one he ever had as a kid. Wrote the journal in something called WordStar."

"My mother always had knowing WordStar on her resumes. How detailed is the journal?"

"Terrifyingly detailed. There are entries going back fifteen years about listening to Kevin and Bean in the morning, having a really great salad at some obscure health food restaurant, buying a nice shirt at the Gap, grabbing some unsuspecting girl from the parking lot and taking her to his dying mother's basement where he'd rape and beat her for a few hours, dumping her off after nightfall near a factory or an underpass before tending bar or doing whatever he did before he was the private club king. Dr. Davis is stunned by the 'matter of fact' - her term - language and writing style Dalton used when putting these events into the recap of his day."

"Told Kensi earlier the world was better without him."

"Yeah, his family doesn't seem all that excited about suing now, wait until they see this. Sex Crimes is matching what his journal says with any open cases. The imaginary forest goddess deserves a medal."

"Does CSU have anything on the goddess?"

"Nothing. We were going in this weekend because none of the cameras in the were working in the park. There was some glitch in the traffic cameras around the park because everything was frozen from about 3:30AM on. There were intermittent outages throughout the city later that night and into the morning. Thank God Dalton was the only high-profile arrest that night. We'd be killed in the media if it got out that our citywide surveillance cameras all decided to take the night off."

"Are they working on it?"

"The IT people say everything was back in working order before 6AM. Oh, and there was a five million dollar donation to repair the cameras in Griffith Park made this morning."

"Who made the donation?"

"Your upcoming dinner companion and recent East Coast transplantee, Kenneth Irons." Repeating the phrases from Irons's offer, Bates told Deeks "Irons was deeply troubled that a treasure like Griffith Park was not being protected from evildoers like Dalton."

Deeks was going to check with Nell to see if Dalton had some sort of connection to Irons. "Irons's name keeps coming up a lot."

"It does. Be careful kid. Men like him usually get their way and if he took out that firm of hired soldiers in two days, you don't want to be his next target."

Deeks nodding, knowing he wasn't the Irons's next target, Kensi was.

-30-


	5. Wealth and Taste

**5.** "Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste." - Jagger/Richards

* * *

Kensi was carrying her dress shoes into her living room when Lara Macy waved hello from the couch, scaring the daylights out of Kensi. "Jesus, Mace!"

"Just me, Kensi," Macy threw her hands up in a surrender. "Gorgeous dress."

Kensi shook her head but smiled. "You're back for a fashion review?"

"Show me what you got, Kiddo."

Still smiling, Kensi did a little twirl to show off the light khaki, sleeveless, belted sheath dress - the first item without long sleeves (or any sleeves) she wore since the museum. The twirl was a familiar action, a throwback to when Macy and Hetty were working with the new-to-OSP Kensi. Slipping on her shoes, Kensi gave the dress' origin. "Calvin Klein. It was on sale at Macy's summer before last. I had some extra money burning a hole in my bank account because I was on a long overseas assignment the previous winter. Used the money to freshen up my wardrobe."

"And there's no way imaginable that you picked that dress partly because you were doing some retail therapy after the DoJ arrived and partly because the next time Deeks asked you out for dinner, you'd have something really nice and new to wear." Macy leaned back on Kensi's couch and put her feet up on the one clutter-free spot on the coffee table.

"I don't do retail therapy and I certainly don't dress for Deeks. Maybe after wearing layers of heavy sweaters, cargo pants and the occasional burka for four months, I wanted something nice. Something for me."

"Of course, for you. But you're looking forward to Deeks seeing you in this outfit. You almost wore it out with your friends last February when you introduced them to Deeks."

"It rained. Same with Valentine's Day." Kensi looked down at the dress. "I like this dress."

"You should. What would Hetty think about that outfit?"

Kensi walked over to the hall mirror. "I think she'd like the dress. The color works on me. She likes to keep things simple when she's going for a dressy evening look that's not a gown." Of course, there was nothing simple about the bracelet on her right arm, Kensi mused.

"That's not all she'd think."

Kensi looked at herself but wasn't sure where Macy was going with this conversation.

"Come on, Kens," Macy chided but there was no malice in her tone. "What did Hetty think was your greatest asset?"

"My mind," Kensi said with a smile. Being trained by Hetty and Macy meant so much to Kensi when she started at OSP. Her other NCIS instructors, training officers, the agents, both men and women, who helped her as a young agent were all smart and experienced. They were generous with their time whenever Kensi had questions. The two senior women at OSP, however, were heavily invested in Kensi's training and in her successes. Hetty and Macy would team up to work with her before and after every assignment early in Kensi's career. She missed that sort of mentoring relationship once Macy was reassigned and Kensi had to step up from young agent to full operative when Callen was shot.

"What did she think most of your marks and targets would appreciate?"

Kensi put her arms out and smiled knowingly. "The rest of the package."

"And what part of that package was Hetty most envious of."

"Legs. I have long legs."

"And what would she think of those god awful lace-up sandals. And if your answer isn't 'she'd walk them into the burn room and toss them into the incinerator herself,' then we failed you in some way. Awful choice, Kensi."

"But I like them," Kensi half-whined. "They're cool."

With a near perfect imitation of Hetty, Macy told Kensi, "You want to do whatever you can to lengthen what is your already lovely, long line, Miss Blye. Use what every woman in every room you'll ever enter envies when they see you, what every man in that room desires. Your best attribute is what should always be featured when you dress to impress."

Kensi sighed and walked into her bedroom. She returned with a pair of black patent leather sling backs with a peep toe and four inch heels with a half-inch platform. "Better?"

"Better," Macy said with a smile. "Much better."

Kensi sat in the chair alongside the couch and started sliding on the shoes. "Why are you here Mace?"

"I'm always around. We're all always around."

"Do you see other people? Renko?"

"It isn't like that Kens, it's different over here. You're seeing me this way because it is the easiest way for you to handle what skills and abilities you now have. I won't always be around like this, in this form. Just as things were going when I left Special Projects, you won't need me - you'll just understand."

"I needed you. We all needed you."

"Someone had to pay for Callen being shot. The office was going to have to move from the warehouse to your new facility, every undercover code and all case terminology had to change. Legends had to be confirmed as still viable. Hetty had to conduct an internal investigation with the SecNav's hand-picked investigator. E.J. Barrett flies in from Rota as an independent investigator," Macy put air quotes around independent investigator, "but she was really there to spy on Hetty for the SecNav."

"Hetty knew Barrett was Davenport's niece?" Kensi heard that Davenport went out of his way to hide his connect to Barrett and vice versa.

"This is Hetty we're talking about, Kensi."

"But why you? The investigation cleared you, cleared all of us. The hit was paid for by someone from Callen's past and not anyone related to NCIS."

"OSP has always been under scrutiny. Hetty running the office has a lot to do with the attention but when the budget for the move was submitted, the costs of changing all the codes and about half the protocols, someone would have to pay career-wise if the DoD was paying in reality. There was a special task force dealing with sexual assaults in field being set up in Marseille so asked for the assignment and was transferred. The DoD got their pound of flesh and I didn't wind up in a quonset hut in Djibouti or buried at a desk job in the Navy Yard."

"But you were on a leave of absence when you were..."

"Killed. Yeah. The task force work was rewarding when the victims got justice and just soul crushing when they didn't. Then I followed a case where I thought I could trust someone and I was wrong. We're not really allowed to be wrong too many times in our jobs, now are we?" Macy wondered aloud. "But I'm tired of the 'me' talk. You look good Kensi. Not just the dress and the shoes, either."

Kensi leaned back in her chair. She was so comfortable having Macy back and yet... "This is all so weird. I'm talking old times, taking fashion advice and getting compliments from someone who has been gone for more than five years."

"But look at you in those five years. You've become a great agent. Hetty knew that you would and after about a week so did I. You wound up fitting like a glove in the unit. When you first walked into the warehouse, I was worried because you were so young but Hetty was so right about you. And you keep surprising me. Now you got yourself a boyfriend who I would have never thought you'd pick."

Suddenly defensive, Kensi asked "What's wrong with Deeks?"

"Nothing's wrong with Deeks. He's great."

"You didn't think I'd wind up with someone great? Really Mace?"

"Well, in my defense, I saw those entertainment lawyers slash sharks, real estate losers and finance douchebags you use to find whenever we'd go out for a drink. But Deeks, well that whole SoCal surfer boy look, that's not what you use to look for when we went out on the town."

"What's the old line? Back then, I wasn't looking for Mr. Right, I was looking for Mr. Right Now."

"But you look happier now that you have a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend," Kensi chuckled. "He's..."

"Don't tell me he's not your boyfriend, Kensi."

"No, it's just...he's so much more than that."

"Now what do we have here? Kensi Blye sharing an honest moment about her love life. Or is it an honest moment about the love of her life?"

Kensi shook her head. "Right now Mace, all Deeks is," she sighed, "is late. Never around when you need 'em, right?" Kensi tried to joke.

"Traffic, Kensi. Only traffic. And name one time he wasn't around when you needed him."

"He's a good man," Kensi said looking down. "But what kind of girlfriend," Kensi's tone was a sneer when she said 'girlfriend', "am I going to be with this?" Kensi looked up and showed Macy the Witchblade.

"The woman you are today, everything you've done, everything you've achieved, everything you've survived...it's what attracted the Witchblade. Tonight, when you look for answers from the outside don't forget that some of the truest answers come from within," Macy advised. "And as for your tardy boyfriend, you better than anyone knows not to sell Deeks short."

Before Kensi could ask Macy what she meant, Deeks put his key to Kensi's place in the front door lock. In a blink of an eye, Macy was gone.

"Miss you Mace," Kensi whispered to the empty couch. "It was great to always have you on my six."

"I know, I'm running a little late," Deeks said as he walked into the Kensi's apartment carrying a small shopping bag. Deeks was in a Hugo Boss dark blue suit, bright white shirt and a grey pattern, silk tie, After Kensi stood, Deeks took a step back. "You look amazing Kens. I mean, you always do but wow!"

Kensi did another little twirl. "You like?"

"Oh yeah," Deeks put his arm out and pulled Kensi toward him. Standing in front of the hall mirror, Deeks said, "Let's say we skip our dinner with big Kenny Moneybags and have a night out on the town. You, me, Melisse."

"And not know what this is?" Kensi lifted her right arm.

"Just a guess," Deeks gave Kensi a quick kiss on the cheek, "our boy Ken knows about as much about your magical, mystical bracelet as you do."

"It was in his collection."

"So were a whole bunch of suits of armor. You think he knows how to walk around like the Tin Man? This is for you."

Kensi looked at Deeks's offering. - a cellphone similar to hers but not her phone. Per his request, she packed it in the overnight bag she gave Deeks when dropped her off to dress for dinner. "What's up?"

"Bates has a new toy." Deeks put the shopping bag on Kensi's coffee table where Macy had her feet just a few minutes ago. "Your current NCIS phone is off and untraceable but all your calls and texts will go here. If Irons wants to trace either you or me, he'll get nothing because these phones both list Parker Center as our location."

"Smart," Kensi took the phone and put it in the small black beaded clutch with her house keys, IDs and a tube of lipstick.

"We got a loaner car from LAPD I think you'll like."

"While all this added level of diligence is great, Irons can trace us if he wants."

"Agreed, but no need to make it easy. Off to dinner with Irons man. Geez, at least Tony Stark had his zillion dollar mansion in Malibu, Irons has to be up in the hills near the San Gabriel mountains."

"You know we saw the house Irons is renting," Kensi said as she picked up a black pashmina shawl Lara Macy gave her for her first Christmas at OSP.

" _Million Dollar Listing_. I Googled the address and saw the You Tube video. It seemed familiar."

"I checked. The mansion hasn't been sold. No records in the county clerk's office."

"So he's renting. It is a $75 million mansion, what do you think he's paying a month?" Deeks asked as he opened the door to the white 2014 Mercedes ML 350 SUV Bates offered.

"A hell of a lot more than you and I are paying. Combined," Kensi answered once they were in the car. "This is nice."

"It goes up for auction in about a month. Formerly driven by some suburban a-hole who drove drunk, got caught, cut a deal and drove drunk again. It can be yours for about twenty-five thou."

"I like the Caddy," Kensi said.

Once they were on the road, Deeks tried to draw Kensi out. "We really haven't talked much about how you're doing. So, how are you doing?"

Kensi sighed. "There's this huge part of me that doesn't believe any of this is happening and then I hear about Tyler Dalton on the radio or on the TV and he's dead because of me."

"He's dead because his family has a history of heart trouble. He's dead because he was a raping sack of shit who in his own journal said he knew he was dying young and was going to have every woman he ever wanted."

"There's a journal?"

"LAPD is releasing it Monday. 'Dear Diary, oh what a Tuesday I had. Saw amazing new chairs for the club. Loved design. Thought the sales girl was cute. Followed her home, forced my way in, raped her in her own bed, forced some sleeping pills down her throat. She'll be lucky to wake up by Thursday.'" Deeks shook his head. "Complete piece of garbage. Oh warrior goddess of the forest, you and Ms. Pointy did the world a favor."

Kensi was quiet for a while. "Why me?"

"Why not you, you're awesome."

"I'm a federal agent, I'm a normal person."

"Don't take this the wrong way but you're anything but a normal person. You're smart, you're strong, you're amazing. If I was some weird magical weapon, I'd look to hang with someone like you."

"And Irons?"

"Please tell me you got the rich guy, creepy vibe off him."

"In waves. Large, constant waves."

"Then we have a very careful dinner with him, try to learn everything we can about the Witchblade," Deeks imitated Irons when he mentioned the bracelet. "Then we go on with the rest of our lives."

"What if he wants to be part of those lives."

Deeks sighed dramatically. "I supposed if you want us to move in with the man in his fabulous mansion, with probably an army of servants and a garage fill of limos to take us to the office, I'd consider it. But I want him to get us a little beach bungalow for the weekends. That _Million Dollar Listing_ show you like always has a place in the 'bu for sale."

Kensi shook her head and smiled before turning serious. "This does other things. Things I haven't told you about."

"And we can talk about those things now, or later when we finish with Irons or whenever you want."

"Tonight, when we get to the hotel." Kensi promised.

"Not a hotel. We're crashing at a friend's place. He's working a joint task force with the FBI and SEC. Matt Bernhart, evil stockbroker."

"I can't see Matt doing something like that."

"Oh, he's working a pump and dump boiler room out of this awful downtown building as a corrupt Master of the Universe wannabe, living in some condo on South Figueroa and a bunch of strip clubs with the boys. Matt's loving everything but wearing a suit every day," Deeks said with a smile.

A smile Kensi did not meet. "I have some things to tell you."

"I have nothing but time to listen."

x-x-x

The ride was slow but Deeks pulled up to the mansion's security shed at 7:50. After guards with inspector mirrors looked under the car, checked the trunk and back seat, the Mercedes was waved through and instructed to pull up to the main driveway.

The main driveway was longer than the block where Deeks grew up after his father was gone. A twenty-something in a starched white shirt, black tie, matching black vest and pants was waiting near the mansion's entrance. "I'll be happy to take care of your vehicle, Mr. Deeks," the young man said. "Mr. Irons asked me to assure you it will remain untouched just off the front of the mansion and be available to you as soon as you and Ms. Blye are ready to leave."

Deeks handed over the keys. "Thank you..."

"David, sir. David Baker."

"Thank you, David," Deeks said as he cross over to Kensi and took her hand.

Walking to the mansion's enormous doors, Kensi found the doorbell. "Here goes nothing," she said with a worried smile.

"We're good Kens," Deeks gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

A second passed before the large doors opened. An older man, dressed similarly to David, just with a suit jacket instead of a vest, opened the door. "Good evening and welcome to Mr. Irons's home. My name is Julian, please follow me." The man's accent had a British dialect that Kensi thought was Welch.

Walking down a long corridor, Julian took them to a tall, slim African-American man in his early fifties, sitting at a well-stocked wet bar near a grand staircase. Unlike David and Julian, this gentleman was dressed a blue pinstripe, Savile Row suit. There was a silver tray with a cup of coffee, a French press and a fine china cream and sugar set. "Good evening Ms. Blye, Mr. Deeks. My name is Sturgis Turner, partner at McKenzie, Brackman," he introduced himself with an extended hand. Shaking Kensi's hand, then Deeks's, Turner continued. "Mr. Irons, who is a client and enjoys all the confidentially that comes with attorney-client privilege, explained that both of you work in law enforcement. Mr. Irons has strict rules about cell phones in his home. I am here to take custody of your phones with the promise that if you receive any calls, I will bring them to you immediately." As Kensi started to object, Turner added, "Miss Blye, I graduated from Annapolis, assigned to the submarine service before earning my J.D. and serving for nearly a decade in the Judge Advocate General's office in Washington. I can assure you, the phones will be secure."

"And you're a partner as McKenze-Brackman. You're a pricy phone sitter," Deeks said as he passed his phone to Turner.

"This is perhaps the easiest billable hours I've had since joining the firm." Turner pointed to his coffee cup. "And Mr. Irons has an excellent staff running this house."

"Why did you leave JAG?" Kensi asked as she watched Turner put both phones in a clear, acrylic box with a lock.

"I married a woman who is in the entertainment industry and based in Los Angeles. I enjoyed my time with the Navy but it was time to start a new chapter in my life," Turner said, locking the box and handing the key to Kensi. "Enjoy your dinner with Mr. Irons." Turner waved to Julian who escorted Kensi and Deeks to a large study.

"Mr. Irons should be here presently. Is there something I could get you before he arrives?"

Politely declining, Kensi and Deeks watched Julian exit the room without turning his back to them - a nifty trick, Kensi thought. "Did you know Turner when you were working in D.C.?" Deeks asked.

"I was a junior investigator who was there for less than ten months and spent some of that time in Japan. If I met him, I don't remember him. Or vice versa."

Deeks thought if Turner had a pulse he would remember Kensi but he kept that thought to himself. Unsure to sit or to just stand near the enormous fire place, where Julian dropped them off, Deeks was almost relieved to see Irons enter the room.

"Kensi, Martin, I am so pleased you are here. Thank you for your indulgence concerning your cell phones. I can assure you the former Commander Turner will safeguard them during our dinner. Are you expecting any calls?"

"No, but we are always on call." Kensi told their host.

"Well, hopefully we can enjoy good food and better conversation."

"I am interested in learning about the bracelet," Kensi told Irons.

"It is the Witchblade, Kensi. It is not just a bracelet. To name is to know. To know is to control," Irons corrected his guest.

"Well, Mr. Irons, I am interested in learning about the Witchblade," Kensi used Irons's preferred term.

"Why don't I show you two the house and we can discuss whatever interests you about the Witchblade," Irons suggested, gesturing to a long hallway. "It is so rare that I can share my prized private art collection with those who have intimate knowledge of the Witchblade."

Kensi and Deeks followed Irons through a large marble hallway to a locked library door. A retinal scanner discreetly hidden in the doorjamb was needed to enter the room. Once the door was opened, Kensi and Deeks joined Irons in a huge library that looked more like an art gallery. The trio spent a few minutes taking in the art.

"When did you come in possession of the Witchblade?" Kensi asked, looking at what seemed to be the Ingres painting of Joan of Arc, only instead of carrying a flag, Joan was wielding the Witchblade.

"Does anyone really possess anything, Kensi?" Irons answered.

"I got four more payments on a car and then I'd like to think it's mine," Deeks joked, looking at what had to be a Ralph Bakshi influenced painting of modern-day woman who could be Kensi's cousin wearing the Witchblade.

Irons chuckled as he watched Kensi. "The person in possession of the Witchblade right now is you, Kensi."

"A room in a museum blew up and somehow I wound up wearing this," Kensi replied. "A room, by the way, filled with items on loan from you, Mr. Irons."

"Call me Ken, Kensi. The Witchblade found you as it found all these women," Irons said as he lifted his hand to point out the many paintings. "Women, like you, in the full bloom of their beauty and their power," Irons said. While not looking at Kensi, Deeks could feel her eye roll from across the room. Irons continued, "Los Angeles, much like my former home, New York, is full of beautiful and powerful women and yet the Witchblade chose you."

"And if I don't chose it back?" Kensi wondered.

"You were destine to wear the Witchblade Kensi, as were all these women. Embrace your destiny. The gauntlet has chosen you so you must use it or you will lose it. And if it finds you wanting Kensi, it will abandon you just when you need it most."

"With the exception of this woman," Deeks pointed to the Ralph Bakshi-influenced work, "all these paintings, there are women from the time of Christ to the mid-20th Century. What happened to women who wore it since World War II?" Deeks asked, "And what happened to her?"

"There have been long periods of time in history where the Witchblade has been looking for the worthy warrioress."

"Warrioress," Kensi said, more to herself than the men in the room.

"Yes, Kensi, warrioress. Your life has prepared you for this moment. Daughter of a warrior, time spent alone learning to fend for yourself before achieving an Ivy League education. With the world at your feet, you chose to avenge your father's death and fight for your ideals. In many ways, Kensi, you are a modern-day onna-bugeisha," Irons paused and added, "That's a female samurai, Martin."

"Thanks, I took Spanish in college," Deeks looked at Kensi to gauge her reaction to Irons's knowledge of her background. She gave nothing away.

"You were meant to find the Witchblade Kensi just as I was meant to find you. I can help you hone the powers. It just isn't the weapon but the skills that come with Witchblade."

"Skills?" Kensi asked.

"Because Kensi as mad skills," Deeks added.

"Magic, alchemy, science - all ways to explore the natural, unnatural, the world known or unknown," Irons said. "So tell me, are you a wielder who can remove the Witchblade or does the gauntlet feel the need to be bonded with you day and night?"

Kensi thought about telling Irons it was still stuck on her arm but decided to go with the truth and deal with Irons's replies. Slipping it off her wrist, she held the Witchblade in her left hand and showed Irons her jewelry-free right wrist.

"Oh my," Irons gasp as he move toward Kensi. "May I look at your right wrist for just a moment, Kensi?"

"O-kay," Kensi didn't like Irons's reaction.

"What's wrong?" Deeks asked, not liking Irons's reaction either.

Holding Kensi's wrist, he turned her hand to face up. "Remarkable. Tell me, Kensi, was there a time when you could not remove the Witchblade?"

"Why does that matter?" Deeks wondered.

"Kensi does not bear the mark. Tell me, was there a time when you could not remove the Witchblade?" Irons was struggingly to retain his cool demeanor.

"What mark?" Kensi asked.

Irons let Kensi's wrist go and held up his own arm. More a brand than scar - two overlapping circles - was on his wrist. "Years ago I tried to wear the Witchblade and I was left with this. Martin, as a warning to you, most men who try to wield the Witchblade watch their right hand wither until it must be amputated."

"Never big on women's jewelry but thanks for the tip."

"It is so much more than women's jewelry, Martin," Irons seemed almost offended by Deeks's comment. "But Kensi never answered the question, was there a time when you could not remove the Witchblade."

"In the beginning, yes."

"Did it burn you?"

"Not so that it would leave a scar but yes, the top of the brace...Witchblade would be hot to the touch but the side resting on my wrist was cool and comfortable."

"Fascinating," Irons gave Deeks a quick look before turning his attentions back to Kensi. "When did you gain the ability to remove the bracelet."

"Not long ago," Kensi was evasive.

"Did anything change from the time you started wearing it until the moment you could remove it? Was it before your encounter with Mr. Dalton in the park?"

"After."

"So the Witchblade behaved as expected when you were dealing with Mr. Dalton. Tell me, how did your day begin when you realized you could remove the Witchblade?"

"I told Deeks about it," Kensi said, looking at Deeks. "He has been remarkably supportive but that is not a surprise. He always has been."

Deeks smiled at Kensi and she smiled back.

"Of course he has," Irons told them both, appearing slightly stunned. "As The Consort, the first one in centuries, I would expect nothing less."

-30-

* * *

Author's note: If you are interested in what the Irons mansion looks like, Google or search on YouTube for "The Bradbury Estate" and Los Angeles - that's the place.


	6. Interest

**6.** "God loves us, but the devil takes an interest." ― Jennifer Donnelly

* * *

"I'm sorry, I'm what?" Deeks asked.

"More of a surprise than I suspected," Irons shook his head almost frustrated as he openly stared at Deeks. "Congratulations Martin, you have hidden depth."

Deeks smiled broadly at Kensi, enjoing Irons discomfort. "I have hidden depth."

"What exactly is The Consort?" Kensi asked, taking in the mood change in their host.

The question found Irons still a bit distracted. "A consort is the partner or companion for a leader, usually though not exclusively male. I believe Prince Phillip is the longest serving consort of any ruling member of the British royal family."

"That's the definition and an example of 'a' consort, Mr. Irons," Kensi noted. "You said that Deeks was 'The' Consort."

Irons seemed to regain his footing. "Clever of you to notice that, Kensi, but not surprising. And truly, call me Ken. Throughout most of history, the women who have wielded the Witchblade were often alone in this world - only children, orphans, widows or spinsters."

"Spinsters?" Deeks was surprised by the word.

"Martin, the Witchblade is thousands of years old. You live in a world where women, while still marginalized by many members of our gender, have achieved a level of equality never before imagined. While spinster today is seen as a term of derision, it is far better than the actual treatment a single woman of Kensi's age would be subjected to in both distant and recent history. In the not so distant past, and still in some parts of the world today, a young woman would be married off by her family early in her teens. The pressure to conform - accept a subservient role in both the home and the world - was overwhelming. Some of the world has changed, however."

"And The Consort?" Kensi asked.

"Incredibly rare in the past. The Consort supports The Witchblade wielder. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. As I said Martin, you have unsuspected depth."

Deeks did not like the vibe coming from Irons. He may have been an invited guest in Irons's house but obviously not in world of Witchblade. "So none of the women who wore the Witchblade had partners?"

"Most did not. A wielder with a spouse or lover, a powerful brother or father might have that male want to take possession of the Witchblade."

"And would lose his right hand for his trouble." Deeks made a mental note never to even touch the thing.

"Most men who try to control the Witchblade find the Witchblade is not an entity to be controlled by our gender."

"Why?" Kensi asked. "History, as you pointed out, rarely works in the favor of powerful women."

"History does not but the Witchblade seeks women with power and beauty. The Witchblade is male and looks for a female wielder as a mate. The gauntlet also finds women more...elemental...superior. When the Witchblade bonds with the wielder, those worthy in all ways but struggling with a difficult lot in life find the Witchblade permanently attached to her wrist. No male family member could rip it away. Most of the wielders in recent years wore it without fear of a husband, brother or father. They would bear the mark of the Witchblade," Irons held up his right wrist, again showing the overlapping circles.

"I thought you said a man would lose his right hand if he tried..."

Irons cut Kensi off. "I said most men, Kensi, and I am not most men. I also was not taking it from the wielder. I found it, heard stories of it but did not know how it would react to a man. And my brief time wearing the gauntlet, being left with this mark, binds me to the Witchblade forever. Just as you are bound to it."

Nothing creepy about that, Kensi thought, figuring Deeks was thinking the same thing. "But since I don't have a mark like that, maybe I'm not the person who is supposed to have it."

"Oh Kensi, you may be the woman the Witchblade always sought," Irons almost purred. "There were smaller but identical circular marks bore by the women who wore the Witchblade and could remove it. You Kensi, however, both wield the Witchblade and remain unmarked. A remarkable feat and perhaps the Witchblade knows it found its equal in you."

"The recent women you call the pretenders...the ones who don't hang on your walls except for her," Kensi pointed out the Ralph Bakshi-styled painting, "were they marked?"

Irons frowned. "Sara was very much a worthy woman. Some of the other women who wore the Witchblade in recent years quickly saw the gauntlet reject them. The marks remained as a symbol of their failure as they lived their lives without parents, partners or the Witchblade."

"But I'm not alone, without or without the Witchblade. I have my mother, I have friends, I have Deeks."

"Yes you do," Irons said cryptically. "Perhaps the Witchblade is changing with the times."

"Or perhaps Kensi is changing the Witchblade," Deeks added.

The sound of a soft chime filled the library, cutting off whatever Irons might say about Kensi or the Witchblade. Instead, he returned to his role as dinner host. "That is the chef saying dinner is ready. Please follow me to the dining room."

Irons opened the heavy door to the library and lead his guests to a large, formal dining room. The table, seventeen feet in length, had nine chairs on either side with one at the head and one at the foot of the table. "I thought perhaps we'd eat in the wine cellar but when I saw what the chef planned, I could not resist using the grand room."

"Do you entertain often?" Kensi asked as Irons held out a chair for her. Irons sat at the head of the table with Kensi to his right, Deeks made his way to the formal place setting to Irons's left.

"I've just begun attending charity and social events here in Los Angeles. For quite some time, I was part of the New York society circuit. I am trying to get a lay of the land in Los Angeles before jumping right in." Irons signaled Julian, who stood near the dining room door. "You two are my first dinner guests and the staff was excited to, what was Franco's delightful phrase, 'strut their stuff.'"

Julian returned with three servants dressed like David but with black aprons around their waists. The first servant approached with two bottles of wine, both 2008's - a Spottswoode Cabernet Sauvignon and a Littorai Thieriot Vineyard Chardonnay. Kensi and Deeks both politely declined while Irons took the Cabernet Sauvignon. A second servant offered bottled sparkling spring water from Saratoga, New York. As the servant poured for Kensi, Deeks and Irons, the host explained while he always enjoyed California wines, he found the local drinking water distasteful. The third servant offered crab salad canapés appetizers.

Once the appetizers were done and plates cleared, a fourth servant arrived with a plate of lobster salad on an endive spear. Dinner, brought out by all the servants, was rosemary braised lamb shanks with asparagus parmesan. Dinner conversation was largely about Irons's business empire, his recent acquisitions - including a mention of Heimdallr - and his move from the East Coast. When prodded, he admitted that his childhood of Europe - boarding schools he explained - and an adult life lived in the financial center of the universe made the California seem to be a bold choice. "Modern telephony and computers made me realize that wherever I am is the financial center of the universe." Kensi knew there was nothing timid about Irons.

As the remains of their dinner were taken away, Irons invited Kensi and Deeks to after dinner coffee and dessert in the courtyard. "I find the view of Los Angeles, while not as iconic as the views of Paris, London or New York, quite beautiful none the less."

The view of the city was spectacular. A table was set in the courtyard with a dessert tray and an old fashion brass and copper espresso maker about the size of a small bookcase. "I would make an offer of any after dinner wine or liquor you would want but I noticed you two..."

"I'm driving," Deeks explained.

"And I'm wielding," Kensi joked. Deeks smiled and mouthed "Touché".

"Martin, if you'd like a nightcap, Rodney, my driver, would be available to bring you both to your homes while David would follow with your vehicle. I can assure you Rodney is more than up to the job - former MI6 and one of my most trusted security men."

"Thank you for the offer but I'm fine," Deeks replied.

As they sat at the table, a servant brought the dessert tray. Kensi took the molten chocolate soufflé with a regular coffee. Deeks had a piece of key lime pie and a cup of espresso while Irons enjoyed saffron pudding and a cognac. "So Kensi, surely you must be curious about how to use the Witchblade. Tell me, can you wield it at will or do you need to be in distress. I only ask this because I've never met a woman wielding the gauntlet without the marks."

"Only when in a fight," Kensi said.

"How did you show it to Martin?"

"I startled Kensi," Deeks took a sip of his espresso. "I also have surprising stealth to add to my surprising depth."

Irons's interest remained on Kensi. "As I warned you Kensi, if you don't use the Witchblade you will lose use of it. And never forget that when you need it most, if it finds you wanting, it will abandon you."

Kensi wondered, "Is that what happened to the pretenders? To Sara? The Witchblade found them wanting and failed them."

"Never mention Sara with the pretenders. Sara was not one of them, she wore the Witchblade for nearly a decade and it never found her wanting," Irons scolded Kensi. Taking a deep breath, his calm demeanor returned. "There was an explosion and a fire. She never had a chance," Irons told Kensi.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"All of our loss," Irons mumbled. "But her death left the Witchblade searching for you. Did your injuries from the explosion at the museum heal more rapidly than a typical abuse you would have suffered?"

"Yes," Kensi said. "The small cuts from the glass and the bruises where Mueller kicked me were all gone the following morning."

"Improved marksmanship, agility, athleticism?" Irons ticked off.

"I not only have sniper training but have been in the field as a sniper. I am fit and active..."

"And you will be more fit and more active than you've ever dreamed; the same with your side arm and rifle mastery. Your skills will only improve, making you a true woman of power." A servant appeared from the shadows and replaced Irons's empty cognac glass with a smaller glass with a single malt scotch. Julian walked out with a handheld mahogany cigar humidor and a box of cedar matches. "Do either of you enjoy a fine cigar? Some of the most entertaining women I have known over the years Kensi loved a good cigar."

"Sorry Mr. Irons,"

"Please, Ken, I must insist."

"Ken," Kensi said to appease their host, "not a cigar or cigarette smoker but thank you for the offer."

"Martin?" Irons selected his and lit it with a long cedar match. As the he servant turned to Deeks, Irons remarked "They are extraordinary."

"And Cuban," Deeks said, looking at the box of Cohiba Esplendidos.

"Vorschlag is an international corporation and being Chairman and CEO has its advantages, Martin. With the United States's improving relations with the Cuban government I have no doubt your friends and neighbors will be enjoying Cohibas before you know it."

Deeks took one of the cigars and a match. To the surprise of his host, Deeks lit it perfectly. "Law school," Deeks offered up as an explanation.

Irons returned to the topic of the Witchblade. 'What about necromancy, Kensi?"

"Excuse me," Kensi played it cool.

"Necromancy, the ability to communicate with the dead."

"I'm aware of what necromancy is and no, no talking to dead."

"Perhaps that was Sara's special skill. Or maybe it is a skill that you will acquire. For that is the true genius of the Witchblade. It grows with you as you master its gifts. You alone will have the ability to pierce the divide between this world and the next, the ability to experience the world beyond the five senses. The Witchblade will bring this all to you. You are part of its destiny just as the Witchblade is a part of yours, Kensi."

x-x-x

Irons spoke lyrically about the Witchblade for a while longer. He reviewed some of the previous wielder's skills - one could fly which Deeks thought would be great for rush hour. Kensi worried about being seen on a surveillance camera with the Witchblade. Irons assured her the Witchblade has protected itself for centuries and would do the same with her. In the eight years post-9/11 the previous wielder wore the Witchblade, she was never caught on camera, even in a security heightened New York City.

As the dinner ended, Irons walked his guests back through the mansion. Sturgis Turner remained at the large wet bar near the door, reviewing a legal document on his iPad. The phones sat in the clear case next to him. Once Turner confirmed the phones did not ring during dinner, he shook everyone's hand and disappeared down a side hall. Kensi gave Deeks the keys to the clear box and he retrieved their phones.

Waiting for David to bring the SUV around, Irons handed Kensi and Deeks each a card with just a phone number on it. "This is my private line. If there is any issue with the Witchblade or if you have any questions about the gauntlet, I will be available immediately."

"Good to know," Deeks said, sliding the card into his suit jacket.

"I would like to reconvene in two weeks. I'd like to see if Kensi's skills have grown; see how you two are handling the changes in your lives."

"Any plans depend on our work schedules," Kensi told him. "But thank you for the offer and thank you for this evening. I learned a great deal."

The mansion door opened with David handing the keys to Deeks and quickly disappearing down a hall.

"My offer stands for the ride home," Irons told Kensi and Deeks. After seeing them politely decline, Irons added, "Kensi, you are beginning a remarkable journey, a journey only you can take. I can offer you guidance, training. There are no casual coincidences when it comes to the Witchblade. You are here because every moment of your life built to this event and what you do with it will not only determine you fate but the fate those in your warrioress bloodline. My past with the gauntlet means we are connected and it is my fondest desire to help you achieve your destiny."

As Deeks opened the SUV door for Kensi, a younger man joined Kenneth Irons in the grand entrance to his estate. Dressed in a black turtleneck under a black suit, Ian Nottingham stood behind his employer as the older man watched his guests drive away.

"What did you think of her, Ian?" Irons asked.

"She's everything you hoped she would be," Nottingham replied. "I am unaware, however, of the position of Consort. You never mentioned it in the past."

"There hasn't been one in hundreds of years," Irons explained. "The background check you performed on Mr. Deeks, was it as thorough as the one performed on Ms. Blye?"

"Yes sir. His proximity to the Witchblade wielder made a complete background check a necessity. If Mr. Deeks was a threat to Ms. Blye and her role with the Witchblade, it would be prudent to know."

"As Consort, he is a threat but not to Ms. Blye. Thank you Ian, as always your work was excellent. I want full audio and video in both of their homes before you leave for New York."

"Of course, sir. I will handle it personally before my flight tomorrow night."

* * *

Once off the property, Deeks drove toward the highway while Kensi searched for listening devices. She found a small bug just over the rearview mirror light, silently pointing it out to Deeks. Leaning over and popping over the glove box door, Deeks pulled out a CD and gently pushed it into the car's impressive stereo system. "Barbra Streisand" by Duck Sauce filled the vehicle, causing Kensi to smile.

"We need to talk," she whispered into his ear.

"We will," he replied as he put her ear near his mouth. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and said "I love you," before she pulled away. He took her left hand and gave it a squeeze as they drove to the 605. Just after turning on to the 10, Deeks took the Valley Road exit and found a McDonalds. "Need to hit the head," Deeks told Kensi and the listening device.

"I wouldn't mind a pit stop either," Kensi said.

Terribly overdressed for the fast food restaurant, Deeks flashed his badge to the young cashier and was shown the men's room, telling Kensi the code for the ladies room door keypad lock. After taking care of business, Kensi started to wash her hands.

"If it isn't Donnie's little girl all dress up," Peter Clairmont said leaning against the ladies room door. "Shame on I'm on this side. You grew up to be a fine piece of ass."

Startled, Kensi told Clairmont, "You can't be here."

"Sweetheart, all the things I've done in your world and you're outraged I'm in the ladies room," Peter Clairmont said. "What a joke."

"Enjoying hell?" Kensi grabbed a couple of towels and dried off her hands.

"Ask your father the next time he drops by."

"Wherever you are, my father is nowhere near you," Kensi replied with true conviction.

"Believe that if you want. You believed a lot of very sunny things about Donnie. Clearing his name on the drunken driving charge still doesn't mean he didn't kill a small army of men while working as a sniper." Clairmont looked at Kensi head to toe. "You do clean up nice for a freak."

"Excuse me?"

"Freak. That what you've become. You're standing there with that thing on your arm that makes you a weapon. But then again, isn't that what Donnie was bringing you up to be? Hunting, shooting, knife fights - the son Donnie always wanted."

"You don't get to talk about my father."

"I get to do whatever I please. I always have."

"Until Granger ended you."

"Smart girl getting old Owen to do your bidding. Usually a woman has to be doing a guy to get him to jump like that but Owen always did feel protective of Donnie. Still stunned he was the shooter, though. The big SEAL, the spy, the cop - they'd kill to protect you. Or you're pretty sure they would because you'd do that for them, no question. But Owen Granger getting his hands dirty, killing a man. Really not his style. That's what he had your father for. Owen would point to a man he wanted gone and Daddy Donnie would salute smartly and go," Clairmont made a shooting noise after cocking his thumb and pretending to fire a gun.

"You don't get to speak about my father. Why are you here?"

"Just wanted to take a look at what Donnie's little weirdo was doing. Still waking up at night and crying after Afghanistan? There is a reason the military doesn't want women in combat." Employing a falsetto, Clairmont added "Oh, there's my ex, I must save him even if it means I'll get others shot and injured because of my stupid, emotional fool's errand."

"So other than talking about things you know nothing about, you're not here for any particular reason, are you? Makes sense. Everyone else I've seen has had something useful to offer. Just like your time with the Marines, you're just here passing through. Who knew hell gave day-passes for their most evil residents."

"I'm guessing the answer is yes to your crying. What does Officer Blondie think of that? Most men like to wake up with their girls going down on them, not some weepy bitch sobbing so hard the bed is shaking."

"I won't be baited by you, Clairmont."

"No baiting, just the truth. Though you do have to wonder if Donnie knew you'd be this level of psycho-bitch. What man teaches his teenage daughter how to fight with a knife unless he's raising a killer."

"No, my father knew there were men like you in this world. Violent, evil men who see women as an easy target."

"Donnie wasn't a saint when he was on assignments, you know. And he was always on assignments, wasn't he? I mean after your mother got away from the two of you..."

"Shut up," Kensi ordered.

"Now she was a fine piece of ass. Way too hot for dull, dull Donnie. There wasn't a man in our unit who didn't want a piece of that."

"I said, enough."

"Did you know that when your mother left the two of you, your father was offered a teaching assignment at MCRD in San Diego? Blake arranged something with a buddy he had in the Pentagon to have your father teach shooting. No assignments overseas, no leaving his pre-teen daughter as a burden to friends and neighbors. But Donnie said no. Makes sense now. Taking that teaching assignment meant he'd be home all the time and he probably couldn't wait to get away from you."

"Are you done? Because I'm done with you."

"Oh I've just begun Kensi. So have you. You think that thing on your arm is going to make you a better person? Nah, just going to bring out the killer in you. The same killer that's in me. You would have killed me yourself in your mother's house but the blond cop showed up and you couldn't let him know who you really are," Clairmont sneered, pointing to the Witchblade. "What you really are."

"Compared to what you are? I'm not the coward who faked my death to cover my crimes. I didn't kill the men I served with."

"No, you're just the dumb bitch who ran to the Taliban when she saw something that surprised her. You nearly got those two men you work with, two men you claim you love and respect so much, you nearly got them killed. You almost orphaned a girl who was five-years younger than you were when I killed Donnie. Almost orphaned another little girl who was fathered by your ex-fiancé. That ex-fiancé being another man who couldn't get away from you fast enough. Or far enough."

"I'm out of here."

"And he will be, too. The blond cop, that is." Clairmont shook his head in false sympathy. "That poor schmuck thought he was getting a hot girlfriend. You and I know what he really got - a freak. And not the kind of a freak most men want - a freak in bed. No, blondie out there thought he got a woman but wound up with a killer who really is no different than me."

A loud banging on the door caused Clairmont to disappear. "You OK in there, Kens?"

"Out in a sec," she said, a bit shaken. Looking in the mirror, she took a deep breath and exhaled. She repeated the process until she felt more herself.

Opening the ladies room door, she found Deeks standing there with a cup of coffee and an Oreo Flurry. "For the ride home," he said, passing her the ice cream and a spoon.

"How..."

"How did I know you wanted an Oreo Flurry? You are Kensi Blye, correct? There may be small differences recently but you're still the soft serve with crushed Oreos eating woman I know and love."

"Thank you," she answered, glad Deeks was being himself. The two started to leave the restaurant.

"And while keeping you fed and happy is my main goal in live, they also wouldn't give me this," Deeks pulled an empty McCafe cup out of his suit jacket, "without a purchase."

"What's that?"

"When we go to drop off the SUV, we're going to put the little listening device in here and put it in the console. Bates is sending someone over tonight to drive it to the CSU garage. If we can trace it to Irons we may have some leverage. Leverage we can explain to other people, that is."

"You spoke to Bates."

"He wants a debrief tomorrow. Both of us."

"We need a story," Kensi told him. "Somehow talking about Irons's very special art collection and all speeches on destiny will be hard to explain."

"We learned nothing new about the museum attack. Kenneth Irons is very, very, very and I might add another very interested in you and that interest seems to have earned us another dinner."

"Sooner or later we'll have to tell Hetty and Granger about this."

"Later," Deeks whisper in her ear as he opened the passenger-side door. "Later."

It was a loud mix of Swedish House Mafia, Daft Punk and Skillex on the way to the Ritz Carlton residents' parking lot at LA Live. Deeks saw Dan Evans standing in the parking spot assigned to Matthew's apartment. Deeks got out of the vehicle, leaving the music system blasting, while Kensi slowly pried the listening device from the rear view mirror. She gently placed it in the empty McCafe container. Lifting the console, Kensi found two small bottles of Smart Water inside. She swapped the container holding the listening device for the water.

Kensi remember Evans as the detective at the scene of Dom's abduction. He was pulling a double this Saturday evening - a daughter at San Diego State and a son looking at Cal Tech had Evans taking an extra shift once a week. Mostly, he was riding a desk but Bates asked for a favor and having Bates owe you a favor, Evans told them, was never a bad thing.

After saying their goodbyes, Kensi handed Deeks a bottle of water. "These were in the console."

Deeks took his with a smile. Taking off his jacket, he wrapped it around Kensi's shoulders. "You OK? I wanted to ask the whole ride down but we were playing the music loud for Irons sake but..."

"I've sort of had enough of Kenneth Irons for tonight. You got us a room here?" Kensi asked as the elevator door opened.

"Better," Deeks told her, putting his bottled water into the right pocket of his jacket. Removing a keycard out of his wallet, he was able to access the 51st floor.

"Bernhart?" Kensi asked as she put her water in the left pocket.

"Nice to have friends with money," Deeks pulled her into a hug.

Kensi hugged back. "We need to talk."

"Whatever you want to tell me, whenever you want to tell me, I'm all ears."

"You're other things too," Kensi looked at him before kissing him.

"Yes I am," Deeks said with a smile. The elevator pinged and the door opened. Deeks took Kensi by the hand and used the same keycard open Matt's apartment door. "I'd be happy to start my Consort duties now," he said as he closed the door behind them.

Kensi pushed him against the wall and pulled off his tie. "Excellent idea."

-30-


	7. Worthy Consort

**7.** "We're born alone and we die alone, but we get to travel with people along the way, and if you get lucky, you have a worthy consort." - Emma Forrest

* * *

Deeks woke alone. The high floor of Matthew's apartment and their rush to the bedroom meant the drapes for the floor to ceiling windows were wide opened. He vaguely remembered Matthew joking about drones and how he'd finally have to close the curtains in his apartment. Los Angeles was beautiful 51-stories below as dawn was coming.

Deeks found his boxers at the foot of the bed. Not in the bed or anywhere near it - Kensi. He grabbed a tee-shirt and his board shorts out of his go-bag. He noticed Kensi's dress and bra were plopped on the overstuffed chair by the mirror. His suit jacket was spread out on one of the chair's arms.

He walked into the living area, seeing Kensi was out on the enclosed balcony. Wearing yoga pants and her new "sore today, strong tomorrow" tank, Kensi was sitting straight up on a chaise with her legs drawn up and her arms around them, staring off into the early morning light.

Tiptoeing around a sleeping Monty and his dog bed in the kitchen, Deeks found two Coronas but no limes in Matt's fridge. Somehow they'd struggle by, he guessed, as he opened the beers and made his way to Kensi.

"You should have given me a shake when you woke up," Deeks told her as he handed her one of the beers. One of the bottles of Smart Water, now empty, was sitting under her chaise. Deeks pulled over a small accent table and then a second chaise to join her. He placed his beer on the table and sat sideways on the chaise, facing her.

"Sorry, you looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart," she said, still looking at the city.

"And here I figured I wore you out. I'm obviously going to have to train a little more if I'm going to up my game to faithfully fulfill my consort duties."

She chuckled but with no real humor. "Consort," she said before take a sip of her beer.

"I'll be honest with you. Of all the different career paths I've considered in my life - lawyer, cop, detective, liaison officer - never saw consort on the horizon for me."

"Even when you were dropping trou for drunken women at bachelorette parties as they stuffed singles in your g-string during your Magic Marty days?" Kensi joked as turned to face him, returning to her more typical demeanor.

"First, I got far more fives and tens than singles. Second, the adult performance arts provided an honorable way for a young, broke college and law school student to cover expenses grants, loans and two or three other jobs couldn't. I'd make more money in five hours on a bachelorette party Friday night than I'd make working twenty hours in a week folding tee-shirts at the Gap."

Kensi just nodded and looked at the Witchblade bracelet.

Deeks took a pull on his beer. "We said we'd talk when we were alone."

Kensi waved her hand at the view. "There are about four million people out there. Are we really alone?"

"You're not," he told her. "You've got me. And I've always believed I've got you so, technically, neither of us is ever alone."

"You've got me, I've got you and I've got this," Kensi lifted her right arm and pointed to the Witchblade. Thinking about Clairmont, she sighed, "I may never be alone again. Or me again."

"You can take that off," Deeks advised. "I've seen you do it."

"And then what."

"Sans Ms. Pointy, we go back to being Los Angeles's most effective crime fighting couple since Jonathan and Jennifer Hart."

"Who?"

"We really need to hook-up that Amazon Fire Stick I got you."

"No time. I'll be busy being an ancient warrioress who defends the world from evil."

"I've always thought of you as a modern-day warrioress who defends the world from evil."

"Touché," Kensi said with a small smile.

"It worries me whenever you use that term correctly." Deeks took a sip of his beer. "Tell me what's keeping you up and out here, Kens. Irons? The bracelet? My awesome consorting skills."

"I had a dream about my Dad."

"Good dream, I hope."

"It was. We were in Japan."

"You lived there for a while as a kid, right?" Deeks saw her nod her head. "And in the field office in Japan early in your NCIS career when you met Burley."

"Yes...to both. My Dad always traveled through Japan when he was going on assignments in Asia. He bought me my first jelly bracelet when I was five. Medium blue to match his dress uniform pants."

"You have like a hundred of them. Did he spend that much time traveling?"

"More like seventy-two. And I completed my collection when I was stationed there for NCIS but I got started with my Dad's travels and when he had us there as a family when I was a kid."

"You know you never really talked about living there when you were a kid," or anywhere, Deeks thought but kept to himself. "How old were you when your Dad was stationed there? And how long were you there?"

Kensi started to smile. "When I was ten, my Dad did a year-long tour in Japan. We were stationed at Camp Fuji. My mother didn't like Japan. Too far away from family. Her mother died suddenly a few months before we left Camp Lejeune for Japan and her father wasn't taking it well. Pop-Pop was in East Providence. My mother went from being two-hours away by plane to having to take three flights over a day and a half to get to Logan."

"You could understand why she was unhappy."

"Sure. But my Dad loved the place. He didn't join the Marines to see San Diego or North Carolina. He wanted to see the world and for him, Japan was the world. He grew up in Yuba City. His father owned a gas station about twenty miles out of town. Not a big city, not much to do. Same people living in the same town every day. Great life for some people but not for my Dad."

"I've never been there. Japan or Yuba City."

"Yuba City was missing everything my Dad wanted in life. There was no ocean, no big cities. It is a nice place. There's lots of land, not a lot of people and no centuries of history. Japan had centuries of culture, brightly lit cities. There's millions of people living in a small area. He loved being just one of the crowd. Loved the climate. Loved the history of the country. Loved that there was a train from Camp Fuji going straight into Tokyo where there were great restaurants, lots of shopping, events that were nothing like the things he grew up with. He loved it."

"Sounds like you did too."

"Part of it was just being aware we were living someplace different. Someplace cool. And it was the beginning of us being a team - my dad and me. About two months before we were going back to the States, Pop-Pop had a stroke. Mom goes back to New England and it's just my Dad and me for the rest of his tour."

"That's what you were dreaming about?"

"Even before Mom went back to see her father, my Dad and I would go every weekend into Tokyo for a day trip to give my Mom some alone time. We'd always try a different restaurant. You really haven't lived until you've had okonomiyaki from a busy lunch counter and then watched the Yomiuri Giants play a home game against the Hanshin Tigers."

"You had fun?" Childhood Kensi stories that didn't include camping or hiking were always a treat for Deeks.

"We did. We'd catch a late train back to Mt. Fuji and just have these great talks about the history of Japan," Kensi took a deep breath. "But that's not why...can ask you a question?"

"You just did."

Kensi made a face. "Do you believe in all of Irons's grand statements about fate? Or destiny?"

Deeks wasn't sure where this was going. Looking at Kensi, neither was she. "You're getting awfully deep for about 5:10 in the morning."

"But do you?"

"Some, I guess."

"Some?"

"I think most of the time you know the people you're supposed to know and you're where you're supposed to be. So that aspect of fate - yeah, I believe."

"I feel a but coming."

"There's something vaguely dirty there," Deeks said with a chuckle. "But," he gave special emphasis to the word, "I also believe you get to decide what you do with the places and the people you meet. You and me, for example."

"We're an example?"

"We are. We spent a long time dancing around each other. We could have spent more time dancing around each other but didn't. So I believe we, you and I, were always meant to find each other, what we did with what we found - that's where believing "some" in destiny comes in."

"I like that," Kensi said nodding her head.

"So what does destiny have to do with pre-teen Kensi in Japan?"

"I hadn't thought about daddy-daughter weekends in Japan for years but that was my dream...the last weekend we were in Japan. My Dad and I went into Tokyo for one last visit. We were moving back to Camp Lejeune about five days later and meeting up with my Mom. Instead of just going in for the day, we left Friday night and stayed until Sunday afternoon."

"Nice."

"It was. But I forgot about that last train ride home until tonight."

"What happened on the train?"

"My Dad told me a story. He was so into the culture, especially the samurai and feudal Japan."

Deeks was fascinated by Kensi's openness. "What was the story?"

"Shiori-sama. She was the wife of the ruler of Japan. There was a coup. Her husband was killed and she was sent into exile by the new king Tsunemoto."

"OK."

"While she was in exile, she heard of a sword that would make her a great warrior. Meeting female warriors along the way who were also widows because of Tsunemoto's reign, they went to Mt. Kurama and Shiori found the sword."

"Mt. Kurama is the birthplace of Reiki, so at least I know where Shiori was going. She took out Tsunemoto, didn't she?"

"Kicked his ass. Shiori and her fellow widows ruled Japan."

"Awesome story."

"And it was hanging on Irons's wall."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"That special library of paintings where he had the Witchblade artwork."

"Yeah, famous women and their Witchblade," Deeks shook his head. "Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Anne Bonny...it was ridiculous. I was waiting for Hillary Clinton and Felicity Smoak Witchblade fan art."

"It didn't dawn on me at the time but the Mitsuoki panels he had in the right corner of the room - they showed the story of Shiori-sama but it wasn't a sword she found, it was this," Kensi said as she held up her right arm.

"Mitsuoki what?"

"And you're the one telling Hetty you know your Monets from your Manets."

"Paula was interested in European art probably because she wanted to go to France and study. And she did. I was interested in Paula but not France."

"Limited surfing options," Kensi teased.

"There is surfing in France but the Sorbonne is about seven hours from Belharra. Besides, year two of law school was calling."

"Well, I learned a thing or two about Japanese art when I was with NCIS and before you ask, yes it was case-related. Tuso Mitsuoki was a Japanese artist who created some of the country's most iconic art. His work was in panels. Irons had a Mitsuoki Witchblade panel hanging in the library."

"How did you not fool Anna Klein as art gallery manager Kensi Blye with knowledge like this?"

"You remember Anna Klein? That was our first case together."

"Third. Daniel Zuna, Brian Roth, Emma Mastin." Deeks counted.

"Fourth if you include Dale John Sully."

"Touché."

"But you remembered Anna Klein?"

"I remember everything about you, Kensi Blye."

Kensi was surprised. Shaking her head, she said, "Maybe that's a good thing since she's changing."

"We're all changing. I changed the day I met you. But Kensi, you're in charge here."

"How am I in charge here? I could have cut off your head the other morning."

"First, as a jungle cat, my reflexes easily had me ducking for safety when you were flashing your fancy jewelry," Deeks said smiling. "Second, if you want to get rid of that charming piece of jewelry, I will happily ride with you back to the newly minted Irons Mansion and you can tell Kenneth Irons thanks but no thanks."

"You'd do that?"

"I will do whatever you want. You want to wear that, wear it. I'll keep your secret, I'll fight alongside you as your partner, consort, boyfriend, friend, whatever." Deeks took her hand. "I will fight with you. I will fight for you."

Kensi smiled. "I don't know if that's a part of your consort duties."

"You're going to rewrite the rules of that thing," Deeks pointed to the Witchblade, "and I'm going to be the 21st Century consort. Kicking ass by day..." Deeks wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Kensi's smile widened for a moment but her thoughts turned serious again. "I don't trust Irons."

"That goes without saying. Look, uhm, as someone who silently adored you from afar before silently adoring you up close..."

"Silently?"

"OK, we were a little loud in there before but I was trying to live up to my consort title," Deeks teased. "Anyway, I've seen the way men look at you since we've met. Irons was different. A lot less smitten would-be suitor, a lot more predator."

"Definitely creepy. And I didn't tell him the truth about this," Kensi lifted her right arm again.

"I hope not. If you don't trust Irons and I don't trust Irons..."

"Right now I only trust you."

"Good, because Kens, forget everyone else. The only person I'm worried about here is you."

"A little less for you to worry about than you think," Kensi told him.

Holding our her right arm, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The bracelet transformed into an armored glove covering her hand and arm to her elbow.

"Awesome," Deeks told her as she opened her eyes. "Ms. Pointy?"

Putting her arm out so it faced the LA sunrise and not Deeks, The sword deployed from the gauntlet's wrist. Kensi showed it to Deeks and with another moment of concentration, she was able to retract the sword so it was just a six inch blade over her knuckle. "I'm a freak."

"You're a remarkable woman but that was true before all this happened," he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "And based on what Irons told us tonight, you may be the one the bracelet has been looking for."

"It's not just this," Kensi told him as the Witchblade returned to its bracelet form.

"Please tell me you can fly. I know a guy in West Hollywood who does costuming for some...well, adult entertainment but I bet he could make you a SuperWoman outfit that would be totally usefully, completely tasteful but really hot."

Kensi smiled. "No, I can't fly but why am I not surprised you know a guy who makes clothes for porn."

"More soft-core. Skin-a-Max stuff. So no costume, huh, because I'm thinking a dark blue…," Deeks saw that the joke was growing old. "So what else can do you? And how awesome is it?"

"Necromancy was Irons's term."

"You see dead people?"

"Yep."

"Like 'The Walking Dead' dead people or..."

"Everyone looks like they did from of the last time I saw them."

"Who did you see?" Deeks took Kensi's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I didn't see him clearly because of the smoke and it was dark but my father told me to put my arm up to protect myself from Mueller. That was when everything with the Witchblade started."

"OK. Who else?"

"Driving to Griffith Park the other night, Dom climbed out of the backseat and into where you usually sit in the Caddy. He told me it was a bad idea to try to trap Dalton," Kensi smiled at him. "He did like you, though."

"One of his two opinions was right which is not bad for a guy who hasn't been around much. Anyone else?"

"Renko was in the front seat of the Caddy coming back from the park. He was on my side when it came to stopping Dalton. I saw Macy, the woman who recruited me to OPS with Hetty and who mentored me until Callen was shot. She didn't like the shoes I was going to wear."

"Your shoes were excellent. You're an excellent agent. Macy did a great job in both realms."

"Peter Clairmont thought I did a great job nearly getting Sam and Callen killed in Afghanistan. Mentioned I would have killed Kamran's father just like he killed my father and made Kam an orphan at age ten. He called me a freak and a killer."

"Horseshit," Deeks said calmly. "Absolute horseshit. But what else would you expect from him."

"I never expected him. I never expected any of them."

Deeks took a pull on his beer. "What if they weren't there?"

"You don't believe me," Kensi said, sounding heartbroken and hurt.

"I totally believe you saw what you saw. But what if that was just the way your head was dealing with what was going on and with that?" Deeks pointed to the Witchblade

"I don't understand."

"In the museum, you were in a terrible situation, a little disoriented and Mueller was closing in. If he was alive, wouldn't that be where your father would step up and help you?" Deeks waited for Kensi to nod before continuing. "Everything I heard about Dom was he was a sweet kid, a rookie with a good heart looking to learn the ropes when it all went wrong for him. Wouldn't a kid like that be all about the rules and doing what's right. The same way an experienced agent like Renko would know that getting Dalton off the street was all that mattered."

"And Macy would want me to look and be my best for tonight's dinner."

"Now you're getting it."

"So why does Peter Clairmont get to show up? I don't want to see him. I never wanted to see him and to listen to him bring up what I did wrong in Afghan..."

Deeks stopped her. "Kensi, there is plenty of blame for what happened in Afghanistan and none of it falls on you."

"I want to see my Dad again," Kensi told Deeks. "I want to see my father like I saw him in the museum. I want to tell him it all worked out - that I'm happy. I want to tell him I'm talking to Mom. I want," Kensi started to tear up. "I want to tell him I'm sorry I snuck out and that I was such a brat that night. That I miss him so much, even now when I have you and I have friends at work and I have everything..."

"Kensi, your father, wherever he is, he knows all that and more. I don't know how the dead guy check in and check out deal works but I think I do know why you'd see someone like Clairmont after dinner."

"OK?"

"We spent hours with someone I think and I think you think is a bad guy. He was weird and spent the evening dissecting things you've done. He's talking about all you survived, all your warrioress ways - how you alone will wield the Witchblade," Deeks was imitating Irons again. Returning to his own voice, "It would bring up memories I know you work very hard to keep under wraps."

Kensi listened, nodding her head. "Your explanation would make a lot of sense except for one thing."

"I'm not doing it up in Ops with IDs and bar charts like Nell or Eric. Because explanations can be made without a giant plasma screen and bluetooth."

"That would help, though," Kensi told him as she reached for the bottle of Smart Water. "You put two fresh bottles of Smart Water in the console of my SUV every week. There is a couple of cans of tuna and a can opener in a fabric lunch bag in the trunk."

"You found that?"

"No. Renko told me. He said you're mostly cool about earthquakes but you're afraid of getting stuck somewhere."

"Afraid, me?"

"Deeks," Kensi pushed.

"The San Francisco earthquake in 1989. The people who got stuck in their cars when the double-decker highway collapsed - that always made me nervous," Deeks admitted. "And Renko told you that?"

"He did," Kensi felt a little better. "I'm not crazy."

"No you're not," Deeks leaned in close. "You're smart, you're strong, you're amazing and I never doubted you. I thought maybe it was a way for you to deal with the changes but I need to remember that you're magic." Deeks leaned back and looked at Kensi. "Actually, you were always magic."

"No," Kensi said firmly. "I was never..."

"Anything less that extraordinary. You were always Wonder Woman and now you officially have the magic bracelet."

Kensi smiled but it broke a little. "Peter Clairmont said I was a freak."

"Peter Clairmont is probably really pissed off he's in hell or wherever evil assholes wind up."

"He said you'd leave."

"Of course he would. Kensi, he's the bad guy, remember. Your Dad, Renko, Dom, Macy - they were on your side and based on what you told me, they still are. The better angels you have behind you. Clairmont is where he is because he's a liar and a killer and you proved that."

"He called me a killer."

"I'm sure he said a lot of awful things. None of them are true."

Kensi took a deep breath. "He said you'd leave. Like Jack, like my Dad..."

"First, I'm not going anywhere. Second, your Dad didn't leave. He was taken from you by Clairmont and that's a huge difference. Jack Simon had issues that nobody could fix. He had to work that out his way and that had nothing to do with you."

"But now I have issues."

"We all have issues and you and I can work them out together."

"Even when I'm upset and not sleeping."

"What exactly did Clairmont say. Just because Renko, who was your friend, was right about earthquake supplies doesn't mean that a liar and a killer is telling you the truth."

"He said you'll leave because I'm a freak and it isn't just this," Kensi held out her arm. "When I have nightmares and I'm upset...he said no man wants to wake up to that."

"He's half-right. I don't want to wake up to you being upset. I want you to sleep great and to dream about 'Top Model' and your latest urban tracking class. Don't take this the wrong way but when I wake up and you're upset, I take it as a good sign." Deeks quickly put his hand up. "Let me explain. I don't want to see you crying and I know how hard you work to make sure you don't cry but it does have to come out Kens...you have to deal with things, right?

Kensi nodded.

"The woman I met when we first were partnered up full-time. She would never let me see her upset. You'd have gotten out of that bed, taken a shower and cried your heart out there. Or sat in your car or gone for a run totally hiding from me. You were still hiding when the DoJ was all over the office. Don't take this the wrong but every time your upset and you let me in, it's a gift. You're sharing with me, you're making me part of your recovery process and it means so much to me. My God, you trust me, you really trust me and that means everything."

"I do. I really do," Kensi breathed a sigh of relief. "So you don't think I'm some weepy bitch."

"Clairmont is evil. You're remarkable. Next time you talk to the dead, remember who you're talking to." Deeks took a final swig of his beer. "Anyone else show up?"

"No. But I do want to see my Dad."

Deeks smiled. "I hope you will. Just remind him that not everyone looks good in a high and tight. Oh, and that my intentions toward his beautiful, smart, courageous daughter are nothing but good."

"Where's the fun in that," Kensi leaned over and gave him a long kiss. "You want to try to consort again?"

"Absolutely," Deeks stood up and pulled Kensi with him. "But one thing."

"I want to do more than one thing," Kensi whispered before biting his ear lobe.

Pulling her along with him back into the apartment, Deeks said, "Right now, it's you and me. We talk about everything - your worries, my worries, everything out in the open. It is the only way we'll figure this out."

"Yes," Kensi nodded her head vigorously.

"After that, it's case by case."

"Sooner or later, we'll have to tell someone."

"Who says they don't already know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say I'm keeping all options open when it comes to what Hetty knows," Deeks said as they got to the bedroom.

Kensi was shocked. "You can't think..."

"Oh, but I can. Of all the different fighting styles and fighting tools you've mastered since you joined NCIS, was fencing ever on your radar?"

"Deeks, you know I'm interested in learning everything I can about weapons and fighting styles."

"And for the last two months, you've taken lessons once or twice a week for the one skill you suddenly need. Amazingly convenient, don't you think?"

"You can't believe Hetty knew this was going to happen."

"Going to, no. Could possibly, maybe."

"We both know better than anyone that Hetty has her own agendas but..." Kensi's voice trailed off. It wasn't outside of the realm of possibilities.

Deeks twirled her around and eased her onto the bed. "I have a few better ideas than talking about Hetty and agendas, oh warrioress goddess of the forest." After a long kiss left them both breathless, he whispered "Allow me to be your consort."

x-x-x

Deeks's clone phone rang at 7:20. It took him a second to find it in his long discarded suit pants near Matt's window.

"I'm up," Bates offered as a greeting, "and looking to talk to you and your partner. I'm assuming you're at Bernhart's since you're not at your place."

"You're assuming correctly," Deeks whispered as he left Kensi to her beauty rest. He walked across the apartment to Matt's kitchen.

"I got some intel from a friend in DC and no, not my brother."

"OK."

"You're going to be interested in it. You and your partner. How's about I meet you at Bernhart's right now. I'm assuming you're not a stupid man and she's there with you."

"Once again, assuming correctly sir."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Make some coffee," Bates ordered before hanging up.

Kensi walked into the kitchen with an eyebrow raised.

"Bates will be here in a few minutes with some information," Deeks offered as an explanation. "We need to get dress."

While they both had wet hair and Deeks was barefoot, Kensi and Deeks were dressed and ready when Bates arrived with a thick folder of information. Kensi played hostess, Deeks was making them all breakfast.

"He behaving himself?" Bates asked Kensi as they sat at the dining room table.

"He can hear you," Deeks called out from the kitchen.

"Glad your ears are behaving Deeks. Agent Blye, how about the rest of him?"

"Yes, he is. And since the last time we spoke you want only wanted me there as Deeks's girlfriend, why don't we split the difference and you call me Kensi."

Bates smiled. "Roger. But he still calls me Lieutenant."

"He can still hear you."

"So maybe you can tell me how last night went."

"The lamb was spectacular and I'm not even a big fan of lamb," Deeks said, walking in with two plates of scrambled eggs with bacon. "And if we want to bust him now, he's got Cuban cigars on the premises." Deeks jogged back into the kitchen returning with his plate. A third trip supplied three coffee mugs and a stainless steel coffee pot.

"Somehow I don't think I can get a warrant for that. Besides, based on this," Bates patted the folder, "law enforcement like the FBI, CIA, Interpol, National Police, FSB, BND - they've been looking at Vorschlag and the Irons family for decades with no luck. A couple of Cuban cigars aren't worth their time."

"Al Capone went to jail for tax evasion," Deeks noted.

"Al Capone didn't have every major law firm in every first world country on speed dial," Bates replied. "So how did dinner go?"

"He's strange," Kensi explained carefully. "He has a private art collection that's not to be believed. Lots of fancy antiques and expensive furniture. He's obsessed with all of it. Seems to know the history of all his belongings."

"As opposed to most people here who replace their phone every time Apple sneezes," Bates noted. "How interested in you was he, Kensi?"

"He has a pulse," Deeks mumbled.

"I think he has a type," Kensi said. "I may be it."

"Skip may be," Deeks added.

"Oh, you're his type. Not bad kid," Bates said as he finished his eggs. The bacon went untouched. Opening the file folder, he took out an 8x10 photo. "This is Sara Pezzini, NYPD."

Kensi looked at the photo then Deeks.

"Do you know her, Kensi?" Bates asked.

"Irons had a painting of her in his study," Kensi said.

"Not surprising. A friend in New York said Irons had a less than healthy interest in Pezzini. Had his personal security guard follow her around. Made problems disappear whenever Pezzini was in trouble. Nobody thought she reciprocated his interest, well, nobody who mattered. Her captain probably did but he was a problem guy. Bruno Dante was implicated with a few other cops in stealing drugs from evidence and bribery. He was found in his car in a locked garage with a hose from the tailpipe."

"Suicide," Kensi said.

Bates shrugged his shoulders. "He was handcuffed in the back seat. Could have done it to himself. There was no sign of struggle, drugs in his system. NYPD needed him to go away."

"And he did," Deeks knew how police departments made bad stories go away.

"He's not the odd death around Det. Pezzini. You ever hear of a Jake McCarthy, Deeks?"

"Yeah, he was a surfing champion when I was in high school. Rich parents, won a fortune surfing. Got hurt and disappeared."

"Didn't disappear, joined the NYPD. After Pezzini's partner was killed in an ambush, McCarthy was teamed up with her."

"Is he dead?" Kensi asked. Not liking the growing number of coincidences in her background and in Sara Pezzini's.

"He is. McCarthy went off the deep end after a few years of working with Pezzini. A few cops in the precinct said he had it bad for his partner but she never felt anything for him. He just snapped. McCarthy tried to kill her. Put her in a coma. When she woke up, he apologized, went home and blew his brains out."

"Does she have any happy stories?" Kensi asked.

"No. She died in 2009, right before Christmas. Warehouse in the Red Hook section of Brooklyn blew up. Pezzini was sent there looking for a suspect. They ID'd her using dental records."

"Not good," Deeks said.

"No," Bates shook his head. "Irons offered a million dollars for information leading to the arrest of her killer but nothing in six years. He went recluse for a while. Returned in 2011 and has been back as CEO and master of the universe ever since."

"And nothing illegal?" Kensi asked.

"Probably lots of illegal behavior but nothing that sticks. The Irons family's fortune goes back a long time. There are whispers that they were involved in drugs, extortion, prostitution, human trafficking for generations. And by generations, I mean running the 17th Century slave trade from Africa to the New World."

"Vorschlag still can't be involved in that. They'd lose everything under RICO laws if they were caught," Deeks said.

"They don't get caught, kid. There's a belief among part of Interpol that Irons has people running teenage girls out of the former Soviet bloc countries to prostitution rings around the world. They're grabbing young boys and selling them as slave labor in places like Qatar."

"And nobody can get him on any of this," Deeks shook his head in amazement.

"If they've been doing this since the 17th Century, they're damn good at it. A friend at the CIA whose security clearance might make Kensi's slight supervisor green with envy pulled everything she had on Irons."

"And?" Kensi asked.

"I don't think it is an accident Irons found you," Bates said.

"I don't like this," Deeks said.

"Me neither. I never met the man until we walked into his office earlier this week."

"More Irons finding you than you finding Irons. You two share some acquaintances." Bates produced a photo dated 1986. "Now this just says K. Irons and Irons's old man was also Kenneth but does anyone look familiar?"

Kensi and Deeks both looked at a man who was a carbon copy of Irons in a baggy herringbone suit - complete with pleated suit pants - and a thick turtle neck walking through Red Square with Mikhail Gorbachev and several members of the Russian military.

"The gene pool is strong in the Irons man," Deeks noted. "Outside of Gorbachev, who are we supposed to know?"

"Third guy behind Gorby," Bates instructed.

Kensi looked again. "Arkady Kolcheck. He was probably a major back then. He's a young man there, can't be more than thirty."

"I think you'll recognize this man," Bates dropped a photo between Kensi and Deeks.

"Oh God," Kensi said.

"Is that the Brandenburg Gate in the background?" Deeks asked, preferring to pay attention to the location instead of Isaak Sidorov sitting at an outdoor cafe with Kenneth Irons. The date in the bottom of the photo was 2006 - probably when Sam and Michelle were just free of the Russian.

"CIA was working an investigation into Sidorov just before this," Bates confirmed. "Went nowhere but they were still watching him. They weren't surprised Irons was there. Gunrunning was part of the Vorschlag past."

"Is bachelor number three Marcel Janvier?" Deeks asked. "He was a gunrunner too."

"You always were smart, kid." Bates produced a photo of Janvier and Irons sitting at Gate E33 in Charles de Gaulle Airport in a photo dated 2010. "Neither of them were listed on any flight going in or out of Charles de Gaulle and there were no private flights with passengers fitting their descriptions flew in or out that day. The CIA was interested in both men and they appeared and disappeared without a trace."

"If Irons knew the guy who shot me at the mini-mart, I'm going to take this all very personally," Deeks tried to joke.

"Not the shooters. There's one photo left. Probably the senior Irons based on the event date."

"Which is?" Kensi asked with a growing sense of dread.

"April 9, 1984." He slid the photo over. "Swifty Lazar's post-Oscar party."

Kensi looked at the photo. "That's Jack Nicholson with his Oscar and Angelica Huston."

Deeks pointed to a couple chatting behind Nicholson and Huston. "And that's probably Kenneth Irons the father leaning in to talk to Hetty."

-30-


	8. She Fights

**8.** "The true warrior isn't immune to fear. She fights in spite of it." ― Francesca Lia Block, "Love in the Time of Global Warming"

* * *

Bates went through a few DoD files but Kensi and Deeks were rather stuck on the photo of Hetty. Any questions Kensi had about the fencing lessons were gone. The little trust Deeks had after the entire Afghanistan fiasco left too. They were on their own.

Bates wanted to meet the following Saturday - would text Deeks a breakfast order before they reconvened at Matt's apartment. Bernhart was six weeks into a three month assignment and would likely have no use for the place.

Running the dishwasher while Deeks tidied up the apartment, Kensi took a now awake Monty for a quick walk around the LA Live area. At 8AM on a Saturday morning, it was barely alive.

Kensi asked the concierge at the building's front desk to call for a car service to take her, Deeks and Monty home. They'd be paying cash. Kensi was planning a mani/pedi day followed by a trip to the Burbank Rifle & Revolver Club for some work on her sniper skills. Deeks mentioned surfing with the swells being good at Zuma. They were planning some takeout, maybe a couple of episodes of 'Archer' on Netflix - anything to get life back to normal.

Apartment tidied - even though housekeeping from the building was included in owning the place - Kensi and Deeks, with Monty and his bed, left when their car arrived. The Lincoln Town Car driver was less than thrilled with Monty's presence in the off-the-books trip. Seems he was the brother-in-law of the concierge and making some side money. The driver would only take them to one place so they both agreed with Monty in the car, they'd go to Deeks's. Once Monty was back in the apartment, Deeks would drive her home.

Walking into his apartment, Kensi, Deeks and Monty were met by a man wearing black pants and a black dress shirt with his hands in the air.

"What the hell?" Deeks asked as he dropped the dog bed.

Kensi already pulled out her weapon. "Don't move."

"My hands are up. I am not a threat to you or to Mr. Deeks, Ms. Blye," the man said. "The Witchblade recognizes that."

"Who are you?" Kensi asked, still not putting down the weapon.

Deeks stared at the man. "You were in Irons's office the other morning."

"My name is Nottingham. I am an associate of Mr. Irons and I mean you no harm. I'd like to put my hands down."

"Sit your hands as you sit on my couch."

"An agreeable resolution to your concerns," Nottingham conceded as he slowly complied with Deeks's order. "I don't have much time and there is some information you need."

"Did Irons send you?" Kensi asked.

"He sent me to place surveillance equipment in both your home Ms. Blye and here in Mr. Deeks's apartment. I completed both tasks successfully."

"You bugged our homes?" Deeks was stunned. "And you're telling us?"

"I am. While I am sure you would have eventually found the equipment, I wanted you to know about the devices before Mr. Irons could garner any information from either of you. They have not been turned on as of yet."

"And why would you want us to know about that?" Kensi finally lowered her weapon.

"While I am proud to be a protégé of Mr. Irons, I spent nearly a decade loyally protecting the Witchblade and its last wielder. I want to offer you the protection she deserved."

"You knew Sara Pezzini?" Kensi asked.

"Sara," Nottingham sighed.

"You loved her," Deeks realized.

"Sara is the love of my life. I will love her until the day that I die," Nottingham told the two of them. "And she would want me to make sure the next wielder is not taken by the temptations Mr. Irons offers."

"Maybe not bugging our apartments would be a good way start," Kensi noted.

"You could have me wiring your homes for surveillance equipment or Mr. Irons could send another associate who would not tell you. I also did not place a video device over your beds or in the bathrooms - though there is a listening device in the bedroom, not a camera. I do believe you have the right to some privacy."

"But only some privacy because you've wired the place," Deeks snarked.

"Why are you telling us this besides your loyalty to the Witchblade?" Kensi's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I have much to tell you but cannot do that here. I would like to meet with you this evening but want to make sure Mr. Irons is unaware we've been in contact. He is quite interested in you, Ms. Blye."

"And how are you going to do that?" Deeks asked.

"There is a place downtown called The Edison Club," Nottingham started.

"We're familiar with it," Kensi said.

"I will meet you there tonight. Mr. Irons believes I'm leaving town this afternoon for a business trip. We will meet after 9PM."

"The Edison Club is not exactly a place to have a quiet, private chat."

"You will have to trust me, Ms. Blye. Look at your wrist - the Witchblade already trusts me. It did not react at all to my presence here despite what would normally be concerns about an intruder in your lover's home."

"And if we don't meet with you tonight?"

"I have some answers for you about the Witchblade. Answers Mr. Irons cannot and will not give you. Surely, you don't believe he is the sole source for information about the Witchblade?" Nottingham started to stand slowly, raising his hands in a sign of surrender once again. "And surely you can't trust me any less than you trust him. You both seem far too smart to be seduced by his performance as instructor and host last night."

"If we're meeting with you, we're going armed," Deeks said.

"Ms. Blye is already armed. Again, I'll note, the Witchblade does not believe it needs to protect her from me."

"It didn't feel the need to protect me from Irons either," Kensi told the man.

"Kenneth Irons will never hurt you, Ms. Blye. As the wielder, you are his ideal. Mr. Deeks, however, has been deemed a threat," Nottingham said as he walked to the door. "9PM at The Edison Club," Nottingham opened the door and was gone.

Deeks smiled at Kensi. "Look at it this way, since the whole Witchblade thing happened, you and I are doing a lot more socializing. Dinner with a gazllionare last night, breakfast with my boss, clubbing with a protégé," Deeks said with a shrug.

x-x-x

Deeks walked down the stairs of Edison Club with Kensi's right hand firmly in his left just before nine. She was wearing an electric blue crossover halter top with a beaded collar, short black skirt, black tights and black dress boots. Deeks went with black as well - black dress shirt over tan dress pants.

Finding a table in the Generator Lounge, Kensi ordered a white wine, Deeks a vodka martini. After about twenty minutes, Kensi was ready to leave when a waiter approached the table with a card. On a rich piece of stationery was scribbled, "Back alley, quickly."

Kensi remembered all too well being lead out of the club a few years earlier. She never feared for her safety, knowing Deeks, Callen and Sam were nearby. While she had complete faith in Deeks, she found herself missing Callen and Sam.

"Are you OK?" Deeks asked, as he pushed opened the door.

"Just getting ready for a new adventure," she told him.

"Get in," Nottingham held open the backdoor to yet another Lincoln Town Car.

Once out of the alley, Kensi asked "Where are we going, Mr. Nottingham?"

"There will be time for questions later," Nottingham said as he drove to the 110. Twenty minutes later, they were all at LAX.

"I am not getting on a plane with you," Kensi told Nottingham as they drove to one of the airport's private runways.

"That will not be a problem," Nottingham told her as they pulled up alongside an Airbus EC-120 helicopter.

"Not getting in that, either," Kensi added.

"Ms. Blye. Again, your safety and the safety of Mr. Deeks are my paramount concerns. It is also the Witchblade's. If it deemed me a threat, would it not be reacting to that danger?"

"We need to be home by 2AM. I have a curfew," Deeks said, trying to defuse the situation.

"You will be back at the Edison Club before closing time," Nottingham promised.

Kensi and Deeks got in the helicopter with Nottingham flying. Deeks looked at Kensi with a big smile. "Come on, you, me, a semi-romantic helicopter ride over Los Angeles to...where are we going Mr. Nottingham?"

"To see someone with information for you," Nottingham said cryptically as the helicopter took flight.

"A surprise destination at the end - who doesn't love an adventure?" Deeks tried to make light of their ever growing weird situation. Holding her hand, he reminded Nottingham, 'You know she can cut you in half if you're up to something."

"I am well aware of most things the Witchblade will do if Ms. Blye feels threatened but I can only assure you again, I am here to help you both. And I will say again, the Witchblade knows I am not to be feared."

"You work for Irons. You may have told us about the bugs in our apartments but you're up to something now. You'll forgive me if I find your loyalties up for grabs," Kensi replied.

"I promise you, all will become clear when we land."

The flight was less than 20-minutes, taking them from LAX to Catalina Airport. A rare car - rare for the island and rare as in a late 1960's Jeep - was waiting for them as they landed in the near empty airport. Deeks thought he heard Nottingham say "we were never here" to the airport employee.

"I really do take me to all the fun places," Deeks chuckled.

"I've lived in LA for years, never been out here," Kensi confessed.

"My Mom use to like coming out here when she and Dad would ...well there were days it was better not to be in the house. We'd take the ferry over, walk around, find someplace to have lunch or some ice cream. Take the late ferry back. On a good day, he'd be passed out on the couch. Towards the end I use to think we'd run away here. He'd never find us. After he was gone, I realized he probably wouldn't even look."

Kensi leaned up and kissed his cheek. "His loss."

"Come," Nottingham said. "We've got a short ride."

To Deeks's surprise, Nottingham did not turn toward Avalon, instead going to Two Harbors. "Isn't there like a ten year waiting list for a car here on the island?"

"Fifteen, last time I heard it brought up. I bought a home, the vehicle came with the house."

"Did you buy when Irons moved out here?"

"No, Kenneth Irons does not know about my home here. In recent years, I have made some business and personal decisions without his knowledge."

"You're an employee, why would he need to know about..."

"Kenneth Irons took me in when I was a child. He paid for my education at some of the finest boarding schools in the world. Upon graduation from Cambridge, at Kenneth Irons's urging, I joined the British Special Air Service as part of the Black Dragons."

"I heard the Black Dragons are a myth," Kensi told him. Deeks looked and Kensi and mouthed "black dragons" with a confused look on his face. "A propaganda tool by the UK to raise the prestige of their high-end military units," she told him.

"At a time of your choosing, I'd be happy to show you just how real the Black Dragons were," Nottingham replied calmly. "As well as what we were trained to do."

"So if you're this Special Forces badass for your wanna-be Daddy Kenneth Irons, why are you keeping secrets?"

"I am loyal to Kenneth Irons but I am devoted to my responsibilities," Nottingham said cryptically. "We have arrived."

They pulled up to a security gate. Nottingham leaned out the window and a looked into a screen the size of an iPad mini. Seconds later, the gate opened.

"Full facial rec," Kensi noted. "That's ..."

"The price one plays to keep what's dear to them out of harm's way," Nottingham finished. He eased the car up a long driveway, passing a gate house that to the untrained eye looked normal but both Kensi and Deeks saw lights from sensors and a rather elaborate communications set-up. Nottingham nodded to a black-clad security guard carrying an M4 rifle as he drove toward a large home on a hill.

"I am trusting you with all that matters to me," Nottingham told Kensi and Deeks as he pulled up in front of the home. Exiting the vehicle, he continued, "It is not my choice that you are here. I am will to help you with the Witchblade but this decision is not mine."

Walking up to the porch of the home, an optical scanner was used to unlock the red steel front door. Kensi and Deeks followed Nottingham into beautifully decorated living room. A mix of beach-themed knickknacks worked well with a two overstuffed chairs and a long, comfy couch. On the far side of a long coffee table was a half-finished jigsaw puzzle of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"She'll be out in a moment," another black-clad guard advised.

"I'll call you when you're needed," Nottingham said as he dismissed the man. Turning to his guests, Nottingham offered Kensi and Deeks a seat. Just as they got comfortable on the couch, a woman called to the living room "I'll be there in a sec."

"If I knew we were going visiting, we'd have brought some wine or something. We're not barbarians," Deeks grumbled.

"Everyone living here is well provided for but thank you for your offer, Mr. Deeks."

Kensi noticed there were no photos in the house. A few tasteful ocean paintings but nothing that made the house a home.

"I'm sorry for the delay, I was on monster patrol," a woman said as she walked into the room.

Both Kensi and Deeks stood, amazed.

"Look, I realize I don't get a ton of visitors but I can't look that bad," the woman joked.

"You're Sara," Kensi said.

"The woman in the painting," Deeks added.

"I was Sara. And yes, I was the woman in Irons's gawd-awful painting. But everyone knows me as Liz now."

"You're hiding from Irons. That's what's..." Kensi pointed to Nottingham. "That's why you have all this security."

"I'm not really hiding from Irons. Don't get me wrong, Kenneth Irons is dangerous and should not be trusted but it's not me who is hiding. And please, sit down. Do you two want something to drink?"

"No, we're good," Kensi said as she sat.

"So if I mention to old Ken that you're in this lovely house, drop on by," Deeks said.

"I would kill you before you got that opportunity," Nottingham answered, his voice completely calm.

"No, he won't and I'm trusting you not to talk to Kenneth Irons," Sara said as she plopped into one of the overstuffed chairs. "And you're not far off with old Ken. Look, I wound up with that," Sara pointed at the Witchblade, "and for about eight years Kenneth Irons was a daily part of my life. I needed to get away."

"So you faked your death for some alone time?" Deeks asked.

"There were other considerations," Sara told him. Nottingham moved to stand along Sara's side.

"You're sleeping together," Kensi deduced.

"I have loved Sara from the moment I saw her," Nottingham said.

"I was a harder sell," Sara added. "I needed to get away from the Witchblade, need to get away from Irons and Ian had a plan."

"Mommy," a young girl of five or so said as she walked into the room, rubbing her eyes. With dark hair, tanned skin, the child was beautiful. A smile broke over the little girl's face, lighting up the room. "Daddy!" she yelled as she ran into Notthingham's arms. "You're here."

"I am, and someone should be in bed," Nottingham picked the girl up and started walking. "Why don't I tuck you in bed while Mommy talks to her friends."

"OK, Daddy," the little girl said. "Night Mommy. Good night Mommy's friends."

"She was the reason you had to leave," Deeks said as Nottingham disappeared with the child.

"Unplanned but beloved," Sara said with a smile. "And don't worry Kensi, the Witchblade isn't a fertility tool. I was off the Pill for a while, we were usually careful but usually isn't always."

"Is she Irons's daughter?" Kensi asked.

"God no. I had more than my fair share of bad boyfriends so I saw Irons coming a mile away. Hard to miss with his limo and all," Sara joked. "But no, never slept with Irons. When I realized I was pregnant, I couldn't keep the Witchblade. It is one thing to put myself in danger, I had someone else to worry about."

"It could have protected you. Isn't that what it is for?"

"No. As you'll learn Kensi, it will protect you but it often invites trouble. There are people out there who want it to control it. Mostly Irons, but a few other people over the years made a run at the Witchblade. Between you and me, I think Irons actually pointed them in my direction and certainly did nothing to keep them away. All about his tests for being 'worthy' and all his usual nonsense."

"It is still hard to fake a death and keep..." Deeks started to say. "This is an expensive place to live..."

"My best friend in New York is a doctor in the medical examiner's office. She knew everything, including that I was pregnant. Finding a corpse that could pass for me, a homeless woman with no living family wound up getting one hell of a funeral. Another friend in New York can secure almost anything, including rock solid new identities. One day I was Sara Pezzini. The next I was on a private flight as Elizabeth Jacobs, soon to be mom. Ian had the financial wherewithal to set me up comfortably in Rochester by the Mayo Clinic for the pregnancy. I wasn't a kid when I found out I was pregnant but it wound up being sort of problem free pregnancy. The only thing six months in Rochester had me wanting was to live somewhere warm and to bring up Francesca in the sunshine."

"Why didn't you keep this?" Kensi asked, raising her arm. "Do the disappearing act but keep the bracelet."

"Irons wore it for a short time. He has some sort of connection to it. He can't follow you to an exact location but he is aware of its general location."

"Could he track me here? Are we putting you in danger?"

"No. The Witchblade spent years protecting me in that way. It will do the same for you. Irons won't be able to track you but he will know if you're wearing the Witchblade. He'll know about your essence or some such nonsense. I'm not really a new age-y, magic person. After nearly fifteen years, this all sounds like crap to me."

Ian Nottingham walked into the room carrying a tray with a large French press, four coffee cups and saucers, a cream and sugar set. Setting it down on the coffee table away from the puzzle, he started pouring. "When the fire was out of the warehouse and the substitute remains for Sara were found, Irons had me bring him to the warehouse. It was a smoldering pile of rubble but he found the Witchblade after just thirty minutes."

"So Irons knows the bracelet is OK?"

"He is aware that the Witchblade is safe and where it should be. He is not ..."

"Like other men," Deeks remembered Irons statement during their dinner.

"Understatement of the year," Sara said, sipping her coffee. "This is decaf, by the way. Frankie is a future CEO - she'll be up at 5AM looking for challenges to overcome."

"What do you mean by that?" Kensi asked. She had her suspicions that made no sense but lately, nothing made much sense. "Not about your daughter, about Irons."

"How old do you think Kenneth Irons is?" Nottingham asked.

"Is he immortal?" Deeks answered with his own question, playing a hunch.

"A year ago I would have said yes. Over the last few days, that may move to probably not," Nottingham said. "But I am not sure."

"We saw photos of Kenneth Irons's father," Kensi ran with her own hunch. "That isn't his father in the photos, is it?"

"His father has been dead for a very long time."

"How long?" Kensi and Deeks said in unison.

Nottingham took a long sip of his coffee. "Nearly nine hundred years."

Kensi was glad she wasn't drinking the coffee, she probably would have dropped the cup. "Kenneth Irons is nine hundred years old," she said, having to hear it aloud.

"870 is my best guess," Nottingham added. "He was one of the knights charged with protecting religious objects during the Third Crusade. With his son Gerard and two companions, they drank from the Holy Chalice. Gerard and Kenneth Irons stopped aging. Gerard believes they've been made immortal. Kenneth Irons believes differently."

"If they're measuring birthdays in centuries, how does he not think he's immortal?" Kensi asked.

"Since the old days," Sara said with more than a touch of sarcasm, "Irons has had a feel for magic items. It is probably why he didn't lose his hand to the Witchblade. It recognized his magic. But wearing the Witchblade marked him. In almost nine hundred years, not too many scars or marks on old Ken, as you wisely called him, but one run-in with the Witchblade and he has a brand."

"Does he think the Witchblade can kill him?" Kensi asked.

"I think his interest in controlling the woman who wears the Witchblade comes from a fear that the Witchblade could end his very long life. Or that the woman could control him as she controls the Witchblade," Nottingham stated.

Deeks wondered, "Where's Gerard?"

"Party boy extraordinaire. Every ten years finds a new name, a new place to party. He's been in Rio for a few years. Hung with Sinatra and the Rat Pack in the 1960's, Studio 54 in the 70's, London's punk scene in the 1980's, Barcelona in the 1990's, Tokyo for the first few years of the new millennium. Now he's in Rio. Gerard invested his money well, runs guns like his old man, human trafficking too. Real prince," Sara told them.

"So he's not a threat," Deeks thought aloud.

"That would require him to stop drinking whatever the bar has, smoking whatever he can get his hands on and putting half the drugs known to mankind up his nose or in his veins." Sara shook his head. "Oh, and he'll sleep with anything. His tastes are varied when it comes to drinking, drugs or sexual partners."

"Irons doesn't seem like a man who would tolerate that kind of..." Kensi searched for a word before setting for "behavior."

"They haven't spoken in centuries. After five hundred years, it is easy enough to grow weary of family," Nottingham said.

"Why did you want to see us?" Kensi asked. "Don't get me wrong, It is great to see you're alive and you're happy but why would you risk seeing us?"

Sara stood and walked to a sitting bench by a window. Opening the drawer on the bench, she pulled out a photo album. "I need to show you a photo," Sara explained. Opening to a marked page, she handed Kensi the album. "Do you know that woman?" Kensi asked.

Kensi looked at the photo. The woman looked like a younger version of her paternal grandmother. "I know that woman," Kensi asked.

"She was known as Dorothy Bronson when she moved to a small city north of Sacramento."

"Yuba City," Kensi told Sara. "And what do you mean by 'known as'?"

"She married a local man, they had two sons."

"Norman Blye, my grandfather. My dad was Don, his brother was Russell."

"Kensi, please turn the page," Sara instructed.

On the next page, Kensi saw a woman who was the spitting image of Sara Pezzini standing with her grandmother. Both women looked to be in their 20's, with hair and clothing that was appropriate for the 1940's. "That's you," Kensi said. "Are you immortal?"

"No, very mortal. And that's my grandmother, Elizabeth Bronte, with her sister, Dorothy Bronte. The woman you and the world knew as Dorothy Bronson."

"We're related?"

"We are," Sara said.

"And that is how the Witchblade found you, Kensi. The Bronte women are the preferred bloodline. They were, and you and Sara are brave and bold women. What do you know of your grandmother?" Nottingham asked.

"She was a housewife. She could drive, which wasn't all that common for women her age, so she drove the local school bus when my Uncle Russell wanted to go to college. She and my grandfather were older when my Dad and Uncle Russell were born. Not some young couple with two kids."

"Elizabeth and Dorothy Bronte were linguists charged with breaking the command codes used by the Nazis during World War II. Elizabeth found herself working as a spy, romancing an S.S. Officer in Paris. Dorothy would search through the S.S. Officer's home for files and information while the Elizabeth and the man were out on the town. As a gift, the S.S. Officer gave Elizabeth the Witchblade. Hitler had it as part of his collection of artifacts."

"'Raiders of the Lost Ark' was true," Deeks said with a smile.

"Hitler probably didn't have the Ten Commandments but he did have more than his fair share of trinkets that were magic," Sara said. Pointing to the Witchblade, Sara continued, "It was stolen by the S.S. Officer who must have really loved Elizabeth to risk Hitler's wrath."

"Was Irons the S.S. Officer?" Kensi asked.

"That is a good question. Nobody was really ever sure. Vorschlag, as it has done for decades, worked both sides of the war, selling goods to both the Allies and Axis powers until it was obvious the Allies were going to win. Then Vorschlag ended all business dealings with the German, Italian and Japanese governments," Nottingham explained. "I always wondered if it was Gerard. In between endless parties, he was always interested in fighting a war. He had a penchant for choosing the losing sides and holding a high ranking postion. He worked with Napoleon, King George, General Lee, Hitler...if Gerard was on your side, you had a problem."

Kensi was fascinated. "What happened to your grandmother?"

"She and Dorothy were successful. They had a big breakthrough translating the code just after Elizabeth was given the Witchblade. When the war was over, the sisters disappeared for a while. I'm not sure but that would be the time Elizabeth gave birth to the person I believe is my birth father. I was adopted as an infant and still can't find anything about my biological parents. I did find, this," Sara leaned over and turned an album page. "That was taken around 1950."

Kensi and Deeks looked a photo of Elizabeth Bronte in a bright red bathing suit on a yacht smiling with an equally pleased Kenneth Irons dressed in a white shirt and tan linen pants. "Monte Carlo?" Kensi guessed.

"Yes. Elizabeth never returned from Monte Carlo that summer. Dorothy Bronte looked for her sister for a year but nearly died in a hotel fire. Her room fire was caused by a cigarette but Dorothy Bronte did not smoke and was supposedly alone in the room."

"She went into hiding," Kensi said.

"Called in some favors. Dorothy was relocated about has far away from Washington and the OSS turned CIA."

Kensi shook her head. Her grandmother was described by her father as always being a little sad. She died when Kensi was a toddler, heart attack that was always blamed on scarlet fever when Dorothy was a child. After her uncle died, she remembered hearing her father say that it was a blessing his mother was "gone" because she lost so much. Did he know about Dorothy's life?

"Kensi, you OK?" Deeks put his hand on her back to offer some comfort.

"Yeah, just a lot to take in. I have a few memories of her but she died when I was little."

"What did you mean about preferred bloodlines?" Deeks asked.

"After Elizabeth Bronte disappeared, a different mistress of Irons was seen wearing the Witchblade. Dominque Boucher was a Paris fashion model. She wore it for a while but it rejected her. Irons realized he needed to find the right woman to wear the Witchblade if he was ever going to control it."

"Please don't take this the wrong way but you don't seem to be a woman easily controlled," Deeks said.

"One of the nicest thing anyone ever said to me," Sara said with a smile. "No, Irons dangled information, help on cases, whatever he thought would interest me to, I don't know, work with him, work for him, be with him and using the Witchblade for him."

"Sara, as are all the true wielders of the Witchblade, is a woman of great strength and independence," Nottingham's voice was filled with his love and admiration for the mother of his child. "Unlike Dominque Boucher who turned into a killer to try to retain her beauty and build her strength in a foolish attempt to regain the Witchblade's favor, Sara had the skills to both wield the gauntlet and to keep it from falling into Kenneth Irons's control. The women Irons gifted the Witchblade over many decades were all found wanting. Sara, and I believe you Ms. Blye, are the true heirs to the Bronte sisters in both biology and in spirit."

"Aren't you worried about Irons being so close?" Kensi asked.

"I moved out here in 2011. In a million years, probably not the best line where Irons is concerned," Sara said with a smile. "I never dreamed Kenneth Irons would leave New York. Vorschlag made the city its corporate headquarters in the early 20th Century and it worked for him. He owns the local tabloid, he wired the city for the internet as a charitable donation - very little goes on in New York without Vorschlag having a hand in it. Los Angeles is not his kind of city. Like your grandmother, I went as far west as I could to get away from him."

"What are you going to do now?"

"My daughter is being home schooled. We've hired a private teacher who lives here in Catalina. She's retired but Ian's generous offer had her come work for us. When the Witchblade found you, Ian arranged for the three of us to spend the next few months in Queenstown."

"New Zealand?" Kensi asked.

"I don't believe Kenneth Irons is interested in me anymore - especially since the Witchblade has found a new wielder - but I can't risk my daughter and I won't risk Ian's safety if Irons ever learns what he's done for his family. We're leaving in a week. Ian will join us at some point."

"How long can you keep this double life up?" Deeks asked Nottingham. "Irons is a lot of things but he's not stupid."

"Sooner, rather than later, Ian Nottingham like Sara Pezzini will die in a terrible accident," Nottingham said. "I need to secure enough wealth to maintain our new identities and to provide Francesca with everything she deserves."

While taking in all of what she head, Kensi suddenly remembered one of Irons's statements. "What do you know about The Consort?"

"Nothing, I never heard of it. Ian mentioned it and I know nothing about it. Neither does he."

"Sorry, I do not."

"But I have a friend...the one who helped me start over. I trust him with my life because he's provided me with this identity and with the ability to protect Frankie. He's good at getting information. He was Google before there was Google," Sara said with real affection in her voice. "I've asked him to look into The Consort."

"And?" Deeks wondered what was his role in all this.

"He's still looking. He doesn't talk to a lot of people anymore. He had a few run ins with Irons and sort of locked himself away to keep himself safe. He has friends, however, all over. The internet is a wonderful thing. Whatever he finds, he'll get to you. Someone will find you and say 'Gabriel sent me' - they understand how top secret this has to be."

"I understand how overwhelming this all must be," Nottingham started to say.

"After this week, there's very little that is overwhelming," Kensi answered.

"Perhaps. But I do need to return you to Edison. I believe Kenneth Irons has David Baker following you."

"The kid parking the cars?" Deeks remembered.

"That kid," Nottingham told them, "is former Special Forces. He looks twenty, is thirty. And has been tasked with tracking your non-work related time spent together."

"Is he at The Edison Club?"

"Your cell phones report your location as the club. He's probably watching the club waiting for you to depart. I need to return you to the club to allay any suspicions he might have about you two not spending this Saturday out on the town."

x-x-x

As they said their goodbyes, Sara told Kensi and Deeks she probably wouldn't be in contact with them again. Sara regretted that – an only child with dead parents, Kensi might by the only family she and her daughter had outside of Nottingham.

Nottingham returned to the two to the back door of the club. Once back inside - Nottingham had a bartender who not only let Kensi and Deeks back in but would swear in court they were in the facility the entire night - Kensi had a second white wine, Deeks a beer while they waited for Uber to send a car to take them to his place. Leaving a generous tip for Nottingham's bartender, they made their way out of the front of the club.

Kensi spotted David Baker as Deeks waved over the Uber driver. Kensi asked the driver to intentionally drive past Baker as they got in the car and took Deeks's phone. As they got close, Kensi took a photo of Baker while they drove past.

"What was that?"

"I'm not running," she told him. "I live here, I'm staying here."

"Good," Deeks gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Faking a shiver going through him, he whispered "Rochester" in her ear.

When Deeks got the door opened, Monty raced out the door. Grabbing the leash by the door, Deeks announced "Monty and I are going for a walk."

"Shower and bed," Kensi said. "I won't wait up."

"We won't be long," Deeks gave her a longer kiss before leaving.

Walking into Deeks's place, she saw a yellow Post-It note next to the TV mounted on the wall. "CAMERA/MIC" it read. A similar Post-It with "MIC" was by the unused fire place. Walking into the bathroom, Kensi checked her hair before returning to the living room. Facing the camera, she said "Mr. Irons, I don't want any of your men following Deeks or following me. I found the bugs and cameras in my place, Deeks has been kind enough to point them out in his. If they're not gone by noon tomorrow, I'll have NCIS and LAPD investigate. Deeks surfs Sunday mornings, I have yoga. They better be gone while we're out or I will be gone."

Kensi took the Post-It note off the wall and covered the camera.

Sara Pezzini fought the good fight for a long time, Kensi thought but fighting Irons was the mistake. Kensi decided she wasn't going to fight Irons, she was going to control him – with the strength of her will, with the Witchblade and with Deeks on her side, she had the power to decide her destiny.

* * *

Author's note: (Hey, I haven't done them for a while, forgive me this nonsense)

In "Crimeleon", the man hired by Janvier to draw Kensi from the bar - the man who takes her to the alley - was the same actor who played Ian Nottingham in the TNT version of _Witchblade._ Everything really is connected.


	9. Proud

**9.** "I'm so proud of you that it makes me proud of me. I hope you know that." - John Green, "Will Grayson"

* * *

Kensi was sitting straight on the examination room table staring at her arms. They were covered with bruises as were her legs. There were a myriad of bruises under the hospital gown the nurse gave her when she walked into the examination room. The nurse, a friendly, older CPO named Barbara "call me Barb, sweetie" Shelton, told her how happy they were she was found. Whoever they were, Kensi thought.

The doctor, Commander Richards, said the bruises would fade. He didn't like some of the cuts on her hands, wrists and ankles. A tetanus shot was given as a precaution along with the promise of a tube of antibiotic cream for the flight home. When Richards left, a female medic, Chief Warrant Officer Maria Teresa Ramirez de Arroyo - "just call me Teri, everyone does" - walked in with Nurse Barb. Teri was a reservist who usually worked Mt. Sinai's Crime Victim's Unit in New York as a sexual assault nurse examiner. Teri was there to administer a rape kit; Barb just wanted to hold Kensi's hand. Kensi tried to tell Teri that she wasn't...but then again she was out of it for the last few days. Barb held Kensi's hand and told Kensi that she was brave and doing great. Teri was gentle and efficient. When the exam was over, Teri said she'd be in touch and was so happy Kensi was back at Camp Chapman. Barb held her hand until the nurse heard John Booker in the hallway dropping off Kensi's bag. Kensi packed before she left - she was going home one way or another, she decided, when she left to find Jack.

Teri came back to the examination room with Kensi's bag. Barb gently eased Kensi to the shower, telling her to take as long as she needed - Barb would be back in a while. Ten glorious minutes later, the layer of grime was gone, she was clean and she was going home with Callen, Sam and with Deeks…especially with Deeks. She put on the black pants and a black fitted tee she promised herself she'd wear home. No camo pants, no cargos, no formless, bulky sweaters for the cold - regular clothes she thought Deeks would see her wearing when he'd pick up from the airport. Now maybe the 'regular' clothes would make her feel normal. Nothing else would.

Kensi returned to the examination room, waiting for Barb to return with the antibiotic cream. Looking again at her hands, the cuts and bruises were still on her left arm. Her right arm, however, had the Witchblade - her wrist and was mark- free.

"I know I shouldn't have to tell you this but I'm very proud of you," she heard her father say. Looking up, Don Blye was wearing his camouflage uniform with body armor, his combat helmet in his hand.

"Why?" Kensi asked, embarrassed her father was seeing her this way - beaten and near the breaking point. Don Blye's little girl was tough and she was anything but that right now.

"You survived," he answered, surprised by the question.

"They had to rescue me. People were hurt because of me. They could die because..."

"They didn't die and they won't. Just as you did not die. Kensi, no man left behind, even if that man is my beautiful daughter. After everything you fought through, everything you fought for, everything you survived through your life - that's what got you through this and will get you through the next few months. Your friends will help but they will build on your strength. And that strength that allowed you to survive everything that happened here, it was attracted that," Don Blye said, pointing to Kensi's wrist. "It realizes your strength, the power you have within."

"This had Peter Clairmont, the man who murdered you, dropping by for a visit. The only person I ever want to see using the Witchblade is you but I can only see you in places like this."

"Peter used that to get out of his little cage. Those like Peter - I'm loathe to use the term man for Peter, he is so much less than that - are in their own personal little hells. And don't be confused by the term little, hell is hell," Don Blye said with a smile. "He made a deal to break free and for a little while, he did. Whatever freedom it bought him is being paid for now and will be for all eternity."

"Great, so he gets an extra warm seat in hell for his late night visit," Kensi sighed, looking down at her hands.

"That would be an improvement over his well-deserved state," Don Blye assured her. Putting his finger under her chin, he gently eased her head up, a gesture he did often when he was leaving on an assignment when she was a child. "Look ahead Kensi, don't look back and don't you ever look down," he chided. "Too much of the world is out there for you and you'll never see it staring at the ground."

"Yes, sir," she replied, as she did dozens of time as a child. There was warmth and comfort in reliving this but also an ache for how much she missed this. Missed him.

"As for why you can't see me, funny, you see me now."

"But when I'm awake. I see old bosses, old co-workers, Peter Clairmont was in the ladies room of a McDonald's..."

"A more fitting place for him I can't imagine," Don Blye joked.

"But the only person I want to talk to is you. Why have this stupid bracelet if it gives me everyone from my past but the person I want most?"

Cupping her cheek, he said, "Oh, my strong, beautiful girl, you know why you see me here."

"No, I don't."

"Think Kensi. Go beyond that magnificently educated mind of yours. Take a deep breath, think but also feel. Why am I here with you?" he asked, pulling his hand away from her cheek and sweeping it across the examination room. "Why was I with you in the museum a few days ago?"

Kensi looked at her father. "I don't..."

"Deep breath. Think here," he pointed to her heart, "not here," he tapped her temple. "You know me. You know what you are to me..."

Kensi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Suddenly it all made sense. "You've always been with me. When it's all going wrong, you're with me."

Leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, Don Blye said, "And I always will be."

Kensi woke with a start. Her heart was racing as it usually was when she had a dream about Afghanistan. This morning, however, she wasn't shaking. She wasn't crying. In the months since she'd been back, it was the first Afghanistan dream that she didn't think was a nightmare.

Deeks was snoring lightly with a small smile on his face. Wherever Deeks was, he was good but she was beginning to realize that he usually was. She loved him for it - admired him too. Deeks was always Deeks.

Walking into the living room, she saw the sun was starting to rise. Monty stood up and looked at her from his dog bed. "How about I get dressed and you and I take a walk?" Kensi asked. Since Monty didn't go back to a resting position, she took that as a yes.

After leaving Deeks a note saying she'd run off with Monty to join the circus, she and the dog did a light jog to the park. She found a bench and watched the sunrise with Monty policing the area for pigeons. He was not a fan and was committed to keeping Kensi safe from the feathered demons.

"It is glorious, isn't it?" a woman asked as she sat next to Kensi.

"Best show in town," Kensi remembered her father's words when he'd wake her for the sunrise when they were camping or hunting.

"I told Don that whenever he didn't want to get up in the morning," Dorothy replied. "That boy had to be dragged from bed every day for school until he was a teenager. After that, he woke the roosters."

Kensi turned to her grandmother. Gone was the older woman who went to bed one night and never woke up. Instead, Dorothy Bronte looked as she did when she was Kensi's age with a simple hunter green dress, black patent leather belt and matching black flats. Her long black hair was styled in a victory roll. She was beautiful.

"Did my Dad know what you did during the War?"

"No. None of them did. They knew I worked during the War, all the girls my age did, but no. Norm, Donnie and Russ all thought Elizabeth and I were secretaries in the steno pool in the Pentagon. Just a pair of normal working gals."

"You were me," Kensi said with a smile. "An undercover operative."

"I wish. You and Elizabeth are cut from the same adventurous cloth. I was a bit more cautious, always worried we'd be caught. Elizabeth would walk in a Paris nightclub, ask an S.S. Officer for a light and get him to buy her a drink. Seventy years ago, you would have done the same thing."

"Seventy years ago, you and Elizabeth were spies."

"Elizabeth was a spy. What's the word your Marty uses - handler? I was Elizabeth's handler. And Elizabeth had no interested in being handled by me so I handled the CIA for her. She wanted to get everything she could as fast as she could and look great doing it. I think she knew she was never going to be anyone's grandmother."

"Did you know about this?" Kensi asked, holding up her wrist.

"I did. I thought it was just a gift from Gerhardt, the S.S. Officer Elizabeth was dating for information. Gerhardt told Elizabeth one day the pretty bracelet might become something more. She figured he was working his way up to an engagement ring."

"How did she learn about it?"

"Just before the Allies started the campaign to retake Paris, the Gestapo found a list with members and friends of the French Resistance. Elizabeth and I were named as contacts for translations and as liaisons for the OSS in Paris. The Germans started rounding up people on the list. Some poor son of a bitch was sent in alone to find the Bronte sisters. We were translators and liaisons, easy pickings. I was making some tea to start our day, Elizabeth was reading updates about what was planned for Paris and this fool kicked down the door. Suddenly, Elizabeth was wearing armor from her shoulder to her fingertips. She had a sword and a few minutes later, Hitler's little errand boy didn't have a head."

"What happened next?" Kensi was fascinated by this woman who she better remembered in photos than any real interaction.

"We rolled him up in a rug, packed our things and were gone in an hour. We told the OSS that I was home alone when the German broke in and he was attacking me. Elizabeth walked in after picking up the morning paper, saw what was going on and used a cleaver we had in the kitchen to get him off me. We rolled up the cleaver in the rug. We had none of your fancy forensic tools then and nobody was going to believe party-girl by night, spy by day Elizabeth Bronte was suddenly a magical creature with a sword coming from her right arm. We were sent to the Allied Headquarters in England and finished the War there."

"Is that where she had her son?"

"Yes. She met a member of the British royal family while we were stationed there. He was a Major General. Nice man. Victor's family never would have approved of Elizabeth but he took full financial responsibility for Edmund and paid all of Elizabeth's expenses throughout her life. After the War, Elizabeth and I went to work for the military at the Nuremberg trials and Edmund and a nanny were with us. When Edmund turned four, his father enrolled him in an elite school near the family's estate. When Elizabeth died, Victor and his oh-so socially appropriate wife adopted Edmund. They thought they couldn't have children of their own. They had two daughters after Edmund was with them."

"What happened to Edmund?"

"Oh, he's some Ninth Earl of something or other. That British royalty stuff never meant anything to me. Once Elizabeth died, Victor's wife would only take Edmund in if all ties to the American side of the family were removed from the record books. When his wife died, Victor, to his credit, made it clear that Edmund was his biological son to guarantee his place in the family hierarchy. Elizabeth would have liked that," Dorothy's tone was tinged with sadness. "Edmund runs the family's philanthropic interest. Has two sons with his very proper English wife. He also visited countries all over the world as part of his charity work. Cheated on his wife during each and every trip. Slept with every cocktail waitress, dancing girl and divorcee socialite who would say yes here in the States and across Europe. Edmund cheated but was always a gentleman, never forcing himself on a woman. Several of his partners found themselves pregnant but only one had a daughter - and that daughter wore the Witchblade before you."

"How did Elizabeth meet Kenneth Irons?"

"We would summer in Monaco. The CIA has always been interested in Vorschlag. She got too close. They went sailing one weekend when I was called back to Langley. Witnesses testified that Elizabeth left the boat when they docked at the yacht club as Irons sought medical treatment. They returned early because Irons injured his hand, according to the official reports. All lies." Dorothy's hand folded into fists. "Elizabeth never returned to shore and Irons didn't injure his hand grabbing a broken sail, I'm sure of it. Irons tried to take that bracelet from her and she fought back. So did the Witchblade. Elizabeth's body washed up on the beach two days later. The CIA thought Irons would look for me to see what I knew. I knew a lot more than the CIA knew so I asked if they could put me in hiding. Yuba City is about as far away from Monaco as a girl could get back in those days."

"Did you miss it?" Kensi now knew two women who hid from the overwhelming presence of Kenneth Irons.

Taking a deep breath, Dorothy found some peace. Folding her now relaxed hands on her lap, she said, "I thought I would. I was a bookkeeper when I met your grandfather. I never expected to marry. Not too many girls over thirty did back then but your grandfather took care of his sick parents until they passed in 1941, joined the Marines after Pearl Harbor and worked on some of the local farms and in the oil fields when the War was over. I still had some connections with the government so when Yuba City was getting a shiny new gas station just before our wedding, I suddenly had a wealthy spinster aunt pass with more than enough to pay for both the gas station and a nice little house where your father and your uncle grew to be men."

"You really think Kenneth Irons killed your sister?"

"Kenneth Irons killed Elizabeth. Of that I have no doubt. She was always being chased by men - Elizabeth knew what that was and how to use it to her advantage. But Irons didn't chase, she told me one night. He trapped. He trapped her on that boat and tried to take the Witchblade from her."

"Did you ever try it on?"

"No. Elizabeth couldn't remove it after she killed the German officer. She used it to protect us from time to time but we were safe once we were in London. In Nuremberg, we were escorted by heavily armed soldiers everywhere. We did get into a little scrape in once in Germany trying to recover some stolen art at the home of a former S.S. official. There were two Russians looking for the art too," Dorothy said with a smile. "They fared poorly."

Kensi felt the bracelet tingle and suddenly she had light armor from her right elbow to her fingertips. Monty barked at a black Escalade with tinted windows as it drove away. Kensi got part of the license plate number but lost her grandmother. She didn't need to run the plate - that vehicle belonged to Kenneth Irons. Unlike Elizabeth, she was not going to be trapped by him.

x-x-x

Deeks made himself comfortable a table at the Groundwork Coffee shop around the corner from where Kensi was taking her Sunday morning tri-balance hot yoga class. Deeks liked yoga, just not hot, sweaty yoga on a Sunday morning. Sunday morning was for surfing most weeks and if he was doing hot and sweaty on a Sunday morning with Kensi, flexibility may be required but a yoga instructor being present would be kinky.

Earlier that morning, Kensi returned to his place leaving a note saying she'd meet him later, she was going home and yoga. Monty was walked, fed and back sleeping when Deeks left for the beach, rewalked and sleeping before he left for coffee.

The prior night, when he returned from Monty's Saturday night walk to the corner, Kensi told him she told Irons to remove the listening equipment by addressing the listening equipment. Deeks wanted to move it into Monty's dog bed and let Irons's security people enjoy fido flatulence. She nixed that idea - she wanted Irons's men to find it easily.

A text told him to meet her at the coffee shop – she wanted food after yoga. Not breakfast, not lunch, not brunch, just food. As he started to read the LA Times on his iPad while waiting for a hungry and flexible Kensi Blye, Deeks heard a man clear his throat. Looking up, it was Kenneth Irons dressed in a black sports coat, slacks and turtleneck. Deeks figured it was Iron's version of California casual.

"Good morning, Mr. Irons. What brings you here? I mean, besides your growing unhealthy interest in every move Kensi and I make."

"I came to address that matter with you two but I see Kensi is not with you."

"Working out."

Pointing to the chair across from Deeks, Irons asked, "May I?"

"I doubt I could stop you," Deeks joked.

"You would be correct. Tell me Martin, how did the two of you find the listening devices? I was surprised you found them."

"And the cameras, don't forget the cameras. Found those too."

"All of which are being removed as we speak. It was a bit of an overreach on my part and one I have come to regret. I'm planning to apologize to Kensi and I am apologizing to you, now."

"I'm glad they're being removed because if we find them again, I'm going to LAPD, Kensi is going to NCIS with them."

Irons tilted his head. "You would risk exposing the Witchblade?"

Deeks recited his planned conversation with Bates. "Lieutenant, my apartment has surveillance equipment in it; I think we should trace it. See who it belongs to. Set up cameras outside our places to see who is coming in and who is going out. Arrest whoever is spying on an undercover police officer and undercover federal operative."

"I see."

"Good. I'm as vigilant about my security and especially Kensi's as you seem to be about your magic bracelet."

"Would you risk exposing your relationship with Kensi?"

"If anyone hasn't figured out what Kensi and I have going on, they're not very observant and in the business we're in, everyone is paid to be observant."

"And they don't mind?" Irons asked.

"More don't care. Different chains of command and all that fun military/paramilitary jargon."

"I was actually surprised you found the devices."

"While I present myself to the world as an easygoing surfer, I've become a bit of a zealot when it comes to my personal security. Getting shot has that effect on a man. Oh, speaking of that. No more people following the two of us either. Have your security staffers protect your stately manor."

"You surprise me, Martin," Irons said, his hands folded in his lap.

"Seriously, getting shot ups the personal security concerns. And by a lot."

"No," Irons said with just a touch of exasperation. "You haven't done a minute's worth of research on The Consort."

"If you're checking my internet usage, I'm going to have to add that to the list of things that have to stop."

"Have you even been on your computer? You spent the night on the town last night, worked out during the day."

"You forgot surfing this morning and grocery shopping before Kensi and I went out Saturday. But seriously, this really has to be the last day you know my schedule."

"Why haven't you researched your role? And why hasn't Kensi..."

"Why would we?"

"Excuse me?"

"You gave a rather sad description of the women who wore the Witchblade before Kensi. Most were victims of their times - bright women shoved in the background because that was a woman's place. Things aren't perfect here in 2015 but I can assure you, nobody puts Kensi in a corner," Deeks smiled at his own joke.

"There is so much more to this. Kensi hasn't gotten a new, shiny toy. She has to understand what this means for her."

"Nothing."

"Excuse me? The Witchblade is a gift. She needs to understand that."

"Oh she does. But really, aren't most gifts really just new, shiny toys. You should see her with a rifle, a knife, a gun. I've seen her drop a man with her sniper rifle from over two hundred feet. The Witchblade - that was probably a big deal when men were men and women were property. Not today. Kensi is great with weapons. And that bracelet figured out pretty damn quick that Kensi Blye was a force to be reckoned with."

"Martin, you have that backwards, the Witchblade is the force."

"I like to think of it as bad-ass bracelet meets bad-ass Blye."

Irons shook his head, now openly frustrated by Deeks. "What about you, Martin? You have no interest in your role in all this?"

"My role is simple, I support whatever Kensi decides to do. It was my role before she got your magical jewelry, it's my role now. Whatever her choice is going forward, I'm standing right behind her."

"Most men would want a say in what the woman wielding the Witchblade does."

"I believe what you said about yourself also applies to me - I'm not most men."

"You have no interest in its power."

"My only concern is Kensi. If it makes her unhappy, if she can get hurt, we will talk about what she should do. But Mr. Irons, Kensi Blye is a woman of remarkable strength. You talk about the Witchblade favoring women because they're superior. There isn't a single cell in Kensi Blye's make-up that isn't exceptional. My only interest is that she doesn't lose herself in all this."

"You're not what I expected, Martin. I will give you that. But power is addictive. It is why the Witchblade has turned on so many of its wielders. It is why so many of the wielders are alone. Men never like sharing power with their mates."

"Again, to quote the business legend Kenneth Irons, I'm not most men."

"No Martin, you're not."

"Did you boys plan a breakfast date without me?" Kensi said as she walked up to the table, hair damp from a shower and rolled yoga mat hanging off her shoulder. Irons immediate stood, as did Deeks. Only Deeks, however, got a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning Kensi," Irons grabbed a chair from the next table and pulled it next to his. Sitting, Irons offered Kensi the empty chair. She moved it to the table's side, placing it between Irons and Deeks.

"Good morning Mr. Irons. I hope you're here to apologize for bugging our homes and having us followed."

"I am. I just dropped by to assure Martin and now to assure you that my concerns for the changes in your life caused me to overstep acceptable boundaries of behavior. After the death of Sara Pezzini several years ago, I swore to myself that I would not allow a worthy wielder of the Witchblade to ever find themselves alone in their discovery of the gauntlet's gifts."

"Or ever find themselves alone, period. I saw your man at the park this morning while I was walking my dog," Kensi said, her voice calm but full of steel. "And Mr. Irons, understand this, I am not alone. So I think we need to take a break. No dinners at your place, no bugs in our apartments, no one following us around."

Confused, Irons said, "Kensi, I ended all surveillance of you last night, I promise you."

"I don't care if some underling didn't get the memo. This ends today or I will take two steps I think will upset you. First, a childhood friend of mine just got transferred to Miramar. She's a helicopter pilot for the Marines. She's been begging me to bring Deeks down to San Diego for a long weekend, including a ride on her very awesome CH-53 Sea Stallion over the Pacific. I will toss this bracelet out of the window fifty miles off San Diego without a second thought if I see you, your men or one camera or listening device in our homes, cars or lives. I'll follow that weekend up with a visit to the county courts and ask for an order of protection. My non-obsessive boyfriend is a lawyer. I'm thinking he'd be happy to do the paperwork."

"I can start working on it this afternoon, dear," Deeks added.

"Media attention like that could ruin your undercover career, Agent Blye," Irons said quietly but with real anger in his voice.

"It could. But I'm willing to bet the TMZs and National Enquirers of this world would be far more interested in the billionaire master of the universe who just picked up his whole life and empire to move from the business capital of the world to LA without any real reason except for maybe a woman. Your legendary dislike of having your picture taken will be tested by the high level assholes working as paparazzi here."

"Kensi would be the victim in all this. The media you don't own tends to side with the victims in cases like this. I'd make sure the court order would bar your news outlets from running Kensi's name through the mud," Deeks said with a broad smiled. Feisty Kensi was a favorite.

"You're in over your head," Irons said standing. "You'll regret this. You don't know the tutelage I could offer in this matter."

"Maybe," Kensi told him. "But this is on my wrist, it rejected you and it seems very happy to have Deeks around. So I'll take my chances. Your Sara wore it for years. I think I'm up for the fight."

"But you have a lovely afternoon," Deeks said, waving goodbye.

"You are sadly wrong about by intentions and concerns. I will, however, always remain a resource for you going forward. When you need me, and mark my words, you will need me, I will be available to help only this time on my terms," Irons told them before walking away.

"Wasn't he a little ray of sunshine," Deeks said, now sipping is cold coffee.

"Let's get a cup to go. I want some food."

x-x-x

As Deeks was paying for their massive breakfast/brunch at 26 Beach - Kensi inhaled her Hot Fudge Sundae French Toast while Deeks had a spicy tuna burger - Kensi's phone rang with a familiar name popping up on the screen. "Hey, Nell."

"Hi, are you with Deeks?" Nell asked.

"Yeah, we just finished brunch. We're in Venice, where are you?"

"Home. Do you think you two could come over?"

Kensi grew concerned. "Nell, are you OK?"

"I need to talk to the two of you. It's important."

"Nell, is someone there? Just use a color in your answer if you're in trouble."

"I'm alone. No need for code because I'm fine but I need to see the two of you. Now."

"OK, we'll be right over. You don't need anything? We can pick up some food," Kensi asked as she waved Deeks over.

"No, I'm good," Nell said and just disconnected. Kensi didn't believe Nell for a second.

She and Deeks swung past his place to get their weapons. Kensi drove while Deeks checked to see if there was any police activity in Nell's Melrose Hill neighborhood. There wasn't. An Academy acquaintance was the desk sergeant at the Wilshire police station. Sergeant Jackson detailed a car to drive down Nell's street as a favor but reported nothing odd.

Deeks saw the black and white sitting at the end of Nell's block when they pulled up. Showing his badge, he thanked Officer Perez but he and Kensi had it covered. Perez said he'd do a drive by just before the end of his shift. Deeks was grateful for the officer's concern.

While Deeks dealt with Officer Perez, Kensi went to the front door of Nell's bungalow and knocked. Opening the door, Nell said "Where's Deeks? I wanted to thank him for the police car driving by."

Deeks walked up behind Kensi. "Cryptic phone calls from coworkers worry me. Worry us."

Bringing Kensi and Deeks into her living room, Nell said "I didn't want to have this conversation on the phone. I needed to talk to both of you but in person." She sat down at her small living room desk, leaving the couch for Kensi and Deeks.

"What conversation? What's going on Nell?" Kensi asked.

Taking a deep breath, Nell said "Gabriel sent me. I have information about the Witchblade and the Consort."

-30-


	10. Wonder

**10.** "Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder." – E.B White

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Nell said "Gabriel sent me. I have information about the Witchblade and the Consort."

Kensi just stared at Nell.

"I'm sorry, who?" Deeks was able to say.

"Mr. Nottingham contacted Gabriel, someone I knew a long time ago. He wanted me to talk to a couple in Los Angeles who had the Witchblade. I'm as blown away by all this as you are." Nell smiled. "Well, maybe not as you are. You're wielding the Witchblade."

"What do you know about this?" Kensi asked, lifting her wrist.

Nell smiled at her friend. "That you're even more of a superhero or super-heroine than I thought."

Deeks smiled. Kensi shook her head in amazement. "What exactly do you know and how are you involved in all this."

Leaning back in her desk chair, Nell asked "How old were you when you were a senior in high school?"

"I turned eighteen January of senior year," Deeks replied.

"Seventeen," Kensi answered. "Summer birthday."

Nell shrugged. "I was fifteen. The other kids were nice to me. I wasn't bullied. Everybody was really great - I'm not complaining but when everyone in my class was driving or going to parties or just hanging out, I was doing homework, being a math tutor and having my Mom drive me everywhere. The kids my age just got into my high school when I was getting ready to leave. They were nice too. Everyone was nice but there was nobody to really hang around with so I spent a lot of time online."

"Is that where you met Gabriel?" Deeks asked. "Someone told us that Gabriel was Google before there was a Google."

"I'm assuming that's Mr. Nottingham. Gabriel was less Google and more eBay. He made a good living buying and selling things - the weirder the better. We became fast online friends because I could talk geek to him and he talked back. He was really cool. During spring recess, my folks took me to New York because I was accepted to Columbia and I wanted to see the place. I always knew I was going to Columbia but I saw the place when my brother was there. I really went to New York to meet Gabriel. Oh, and to see some plays too. "Rent' and "Lion King" were amazing. My parents went alone to see "Cabaret" before it closed. I arranged to meet Gabriel in the hotel bar. I got all dressed up and he walked in and knew right away I was a kid."

"Sorry, Nell," Kensi said.

"He told me to change and look normal. When I did, he took me for a hamburger at P.J. Clarkes. I was back in the room half-an-hour before my parents got back. After that, we worked together on projects. He needed security code upgrades for his websites after 9/11 to keep the government away. I needed help writing some code at Columbia so I could run a small social network before social networks were cool. Some of the code I wrote with some Gabriel wrote got the government's attention. Gabriel is a government asset now and a consultant with Homeland. Once he was all official, Gabriel brought a number of us to the attention of different federal agencies when we were finishing school."

"And he knows about the Witchblade," Kensi was amazed.

"Not long after I met him online, he had this crazy crush on a police officer. She was 'something special' - his words. Then weird things started to happen. Besides the computer stuff, Gabriel got people things. Not illegal items like Chauvenet but more rare or obscure. If you wanted a guitar Jerry Garcia played on stage in 1977, Gabriel could find it, negotiate a price and take a little off the top for himself for making the deal happen."

"Good businessman," Deeks noted.

"He was. Still is, actually. He started getting interested in objects that were strange - amulets and talismans - and supposedly magic. I thought all this stuff was fake but Gabriel believed. We stayed in touch over the years. Around Christmas in 2009, I was in New York as part of a task force working with the U.N. Sara, Gabriel's police crush, was killed in an explosion. We went out of a drink and he got very drunk and started talking about the Witchblade and Kenneth Irons. The next day he showed up at my place in Park Slope - I never told him were I was living - and he wanted to know what I said. He told me to forget everything he told me but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He picked me up after work a couple of days later, took me to his place downtown and told me everything he knew about the Witchblade."

"Did you believe him?"

"At first I thought he was nuts but he pulls out a laptop and attaches it to a server with nearly two terabytes of data. People, places, events going back to an Egyptian princess in 1000 B.C. Then I read some of Sara Pezzini's arrests and maybe he was on to something. Gabriel had photos of art from different periods in different parts of the world that all featured a woman with sword as part of her arm fighting as part of the military in a time when women didn't fight."

"Women always fought, Nell, you know that," Kensi chided.

"They did but these women led armies, fought invading hordes, evil kings. I don't know if I completely believed Gabriel but I didn't think he was drunk and babbling anymore."

"What did he tell you about Irons?" Deeks inquired.

"Creepy rich guy. Said Irons found the fountain of youth."

"Oh yeah." Nine centuries worth of youth, Deeks thought.

"Did you meet him?" Nell asked.

"We may have had dinner Friday at his place," Kensi told her.

"Oh my God," Nell shook his hand. "What was it like?"

"Fancy digs, good food. Just so you know, they dress for dinner at Casa de Irons," Deeks joked.

"What did he say about the Witchblade?"

Kensi sighed. "A lot of song and dance about the Witchblade. A mention of Deeks being the Consort but no real information about what that is,"

"From what I've read about it, It is you, Deeks. Perfectly you."

"This is going to be a problem, isn't it?" Deeks asked.

"Yeah, probably. Gabriel said Irons was obsessed with Sara Pezzini and with the Witchblade."

"Irons told us a little about her," Kensi said, keeping Sara's secret. "Spoke glowingly of her."

"According to Gabriel, she was a good cop. Some problems with Internal Affairs but that seems to be par for the course with cops who get things done," Nell smiled at Deeks.

"No Consort for her?" Deeks asked.

"No. She had boyfriends but Gabriel said she didn't have someone like you."

"What do you mean like Deeks?" Kensi wondered. Nottingham seemed quite devoted to Sara and their child.

"I realize I met you two after you were partners for a few months but while I think you're both amazing agents..."

"Cop," Deeks said, raising his hand.

"Cop too. You're both great at what you do but you're extraordinary together. I saw the difference when you Deeks were recovering from being tortured and I was around Kensi a lot," Nell said pointing to Deeks, "and Kensi, I saw it when Deeks and I were in the field while you were out of the country. He's a great partner and someone I learned a lot from. You and I Kensi got things done when Deeks and Sam were recovering but the two of you are a perfect match."

Kensi knew all this to be true. "So because we're great with each other, Irons won't like the Consort?"

"Gabriel thinks Irons has tried to be the Consort over the years. If he wasn't such a control freak he could pass as basic good boyfriend material - rich, nice stuff, never in trouble in the papers. Someone you could take home to Mom."

"Why didn't Irons just do that with..." Deeks stopped himself since he wasn't quite sure about Nell's 'fountain of youth' line. "Or men like him just do that with the previous women who wore the Witchblade. Irons makes it sound like some of these women could really use a friend."

"They could. Some of them were in terrible situations but just because you're the boyfriend of the Witchblade wielder doesn't mean you're the Consort."

"So if Sara Pezzini had a boyfriend..."

"Gabriel said she had a number of guys she dated but none of them were the Consort."

"What exactly is the Consort?" Kensi asked.

"It's your life partner but it's more than that."

"Soul mate?" Kensi asked.

"Ying to my yang?" Deeks added.

"No. Yes. Sort of. The Witchblade is male so it prefers a female host. But it is alive, it's sentient. It knows you Kensi and from you it knows Deeks. It was never going to make Irons the Consort just as it never made the boyfriends of Sara Pezzini or the women who wore it before her the Consort either. The way the Witchblade chose Kensi it also chose you Deeks. It knows who you are and what you're capable of."

"And what does it want me to do?" None of this made sense to Deeks.

"What you do is up to Kensi. You won't have the sword or the armor that comes with the Witchblade while Kensi wears it but if she wants to share, you could have her skills. You can, at least temporarily, share with Deeks what the Witchblade has given you."

"Irons didn't give us a great feel for what the Witchblade has given me, outside of it turning into a gauntlet or a sword."

"But he did mention that if I wore the pretty, magic bracelet I'll lose my hand."

"You could, if you took it from Kensi by force."

"Yeah, like that would happen," Kensi joked.

"Power has always been the problem with the Witchblade. It has led some women to dangerous choices. Madness driven by power or revenge can cause the Witchblade to fail the woman who wears it."

"Irons kept mentioning about the Witchblade failing the wielder because it found them wanting," Kensi said.

"It wants to do good. Protect the wielder as the wielder protects those around her."

"It is you Kens," Deeks noted.

"And you're the perfect Consort. The Consort is someone who wants to do good, just like the wielder. Someone strong and brave but their strength and bravery allows the wielder to thrive. Irons, the men who came before him, they all wanted the power of the Witchblade without the woman chosen to wield it. They also wanted it to fortify their wealth and power - something the Witchblade can't abide. You're the Consort because you're strong enough to be fine with Kensi's strength."

"Nothing better than a strong, smart woman," Deeks put his hand in Kensi's. "Nothing."

"And the Witchblade knows you believe that."

Deeks looked down at Kensi's hand. "So Kensi could toss me the bracelet and..."

"In theory, you could wield it, especially if you are protecting Kensi. But this is all legend. Gabriel kept a record of what Sara could do. Nobody's done that before. Based on his research - and he's been working on this since the fall of 2000, the last woman to wield the Witchblade who had a Consort was Cathain, the Queen of Ireland. Her husband was King Conchobar in the 5th Century. It shouldn't be a surprise that the records aren't all that good from Cathain's time with the Witchblade."

"I'll be skipping the sharing of the bracelet," Deeks decided. "I like my hand. But I like the idea of sharing. Especially the flying gift."

"He seems to be stuck on that," Kensi said with a sigh.

"Flying, telekinesis, some of the past wielders could blast energy from their power hand. I'd mention things like marksmanship, agility or fighting abilities but you're well ahead of the game on that before the Witchblade." Nell smiled. "If this thing is real, and looking at you I think it probably is, I can't imagine a better person for it or with it. Or a better person to have on your side." Nell handed Kensi a thumb drive with all Gabriel's research. "This is all he has on the Consort. He said you need to figure out the Witchblade."

"Nell, you know you can't tell," Deeks started.

Nell put her hand up, stopping him. "Your secret is safe with me and if anything shows up at work I can probably help make sure nothing is ever seen officially but NCIS or LAPD."

"Nell," Deeks continued his original thought. "No Hetty on this. I know she trusts you and you trust her but the last time Kensi and I had a secret from Hetty, Kensi wound up seven thousand miles away and I nearly quit the liaison position."

"There was more to that," Nell disagreed.

"No one in power ever told to me," Deeks said curtly. "Still waiting to hear that Kensi being sent to a place where she nearly died wasn't my fault."

"Deeks, it was never your fault," Kensi assured him. This wasn't the first time they discussed this.

"It would have been nice if Hetty mentioned that at the time or any time since."

"Deeks, Kensi's secret is safe with me. She's my friend. But a favor?" Nell asked.

"Sure," Kensi said.

"Can I see it?" Nell's eyes lit up. "Up close?"

Kensi stood and pulled the sleeve of her workout jacket up. "I really don't take it off," Kensi explained as Nell walked over to look at her bracelet. "I'm afraid I'd lose it."

"It's bonded with you, Kensi. I know you lady - it is exactly where it's supposed to be.

x-x-x

After a weekend of fancy dinners and covert trips to Catalina, Kensi and Deeks were happy to be at his place with Monty and take out from Johnny's with a 'y' and not with an 'ie.' Kensi found Deeks's law school Sony VAIO to read Nell's thumb drive. The laptop didn't have wifi - "I was a poor law school student, I was excited to have a laptop with a color screen" - but that worked for Kensi. No way for anyone to know she was doing research.

Not doing research, Deeks. "The last guy who had this gig lived like a millennium and a half ago and was a king. I don't think we have all that much in common. I still think we take our roles in all this and make them ours." He watched "The Walking Dead", wondering if maybe zombies were real since it seemed like almost everything else was.

Kensi and Deeks arrived at the office just after 7:30AM. Kensi wanted some quality time on the boxing simulator while Deeks worked the speed bag before working the exercise bike. As they were walking to the showers, Granger entered the gym.

"I have a quick errand for you two," Granger said, pushing his hands in his pockets.

"You know, the coffee in the pantry is actually pretty decent. If you really don't like it, I'm sure Eric is up for a Starbucks run as long as you let him drink it in Ops," Deeks replied with a smile.

"I've found reasonable coffee on six continents without your help Detective. The Venice safe house is off line. No cameras, no audio inside. The cameras outside show the door is slightly ajar."

"There have been some robberies in the area," Deeks remembered Friday's LAPD rundown from Bates's office.

"Which is why I want the two of you to check it out," Granger said.

"Do we call LAPD if there has been a break-in?" Kensi asked

Granger pointed to Deeks, "You're LAPD. Come back to the office and write it up - send it to your boss and nobody else, got that?"

"Yes sir," both Kensi and Deeks replied, moving to the showers.

"Oh and Deeks," Granger said with a smile. Pulling a ten dollar bill from his wallet he said "Pumpkin spice latte. I expect some change."

Deeks rolled his eyes and hit the men's locker room.

At the beach front safe house, Kensi and Deeks found the door ajar as Granger told them. Guns drawn, they both entered the home. Deeks took the right side of the home - where the living room and dining area were while Kensi checked the left side of the bungalow where there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. The two met in the kitchen where the saw Hetty Lange sitting at the ancient kitchen table sipping a cup of tea.

"Well done Mr. Deeks, Miss Blye. I did not hear you enter the home. I did not hear either of you until Mr. Deeks entered the dining room and Miss Blye opened the bathroom door. Well done indeed."

"Hetty?" Kensi asked.

"If anyone asks, my plane landed late last night and I'm not expected in the office until 11AM. By the way, the SecNav wants to see the both of you in Ops at noon our time. She'd like to officially thank you two for keeping her safe during the museum attack."

"We couldn't have this conversation at the office?" Deeks asked. He also noticed that there were three fuses and a file folder sitting on the table next to Hetty's tea set.

"No. Tell me, what have you found out about the attack?"

Deeks looked at Kensi, letting her take the lead. "We can't prove it but we believe the owner of the armor collection orchestrated the attack. He was interested in buying the security company the dead attackers worked for. Well, one worked for, one owned. Less than 48-hours after the attack, Kenneth Irons acquired Heimdallr."

Hetty nodded her head. "Of course this can't be proved because the man who hired the attackers now owns the company."

"Yep," Deeks answered.

"Anything else I should know?" Hetty answered.

"Irons's office has a nice view," was Deeks's reply.

"Did Kenneth Irons have anything else to say?"

"It's in our reports," Kensi answered. "He was evasive but nothing that would allow us to bring him in for questioning."

"What did you think of Kenneth Irons?"

"Rich guy," Deeks said.

"Use to being in charge," Kensi added. "He was grateful his collection was not destroyed."

Hetty nodded. Handing Kensi the file folder, Hetty asked, "I assume you were going to mention your dinner with Kenneth Irons?"

Kensi opened the file folder and saw security video screen cap of Deeks giving the car keys to not-valet David Baker and a second screen cap of the two of them walking up to the Irons's mansion door.

"We clean up pretty good," Deeks said.

"You do. Thank you for not using any of the outfits from wardrobe."

"I do have my own suits," Deeks mumbled.

"Yes, Mr. Deeks, you do. You two also seem to have your own secrets."

Deeks rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Deeks?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"What do you want from us, Hetty?" Kensi asked.

"Why were you at Irons's house Friday night?"

"A thank you dinner. Irons was grateful his armor wasn't damaged and thought we had something to do with it," Kensi said.

"And we were hoping that with a little wine and feeling comfortable in his own home, he'd maybe slip and give us an opening to why he attacked the museum," Deeks added.

"That's it?" Hetty asked.

Remembering a conversation from almost two years ago, Deeks told Hetty, "I think you have everything you need."

Hetty nodded her head slowly. "Miss Blye, I know there is a watch on your left wrist, is there anything on your right?"

Kensi took a deep breath and showed Hetty her wrist.

"Miss Blye?"

Pulling out his wallet, Deeks took out the printout Bates gave him of Hetty sitting at the Academy Awards with Hetty. "You've seen the bracelet before, Hetty. Even saw it with Kenneth Irons," he said, slamming the paper down on the kitchen table.

Hetty picked up the printout and looked at Deeks, then Kensi.

"After the attack on the museum, I wound up with the Witchblade," Kensi confessed.

"I should have been the first person you spoke to about this," Hetty chided.

"About the bracelet or your history with Irons?" Deeks asked. "Or both?"

"We were trying to figure things out," Kensi said, looking at Deeks and hoping he'd be quiet.

"I could have provided guidance," Hetty scolded. "Instead you trusted..." Deeks openly laughed at the word "trusted," earning a stern look from Hetty. "Mr. Deeks?"

"Doesn't feel very good, does it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Being left out of the loop when it comes to personal agendas and professional responsibilities."

"Deeks, this isn't helping."

"Oh no, Miss Blye, this is very informative. Please, Detective, continue."

"No need to. Everyone in the room now knows what's going on and nobody is being beaten and tortured by the Taliban. Much bigger win than the whole White Ghost assignment, don't you think?"

Kensi gasped. Hetty was stunned. "Mr. Deeks, everyone involved in that misadventure paid a price."

"Misadventure," Deeks sighed. "What exactly was your price Hetty, a six week stay in a luxury hotel in D.C? A couple of congressional staffers asking uncomfortable questions?"

"It is becoming clear the price was your faith in me."

"Somehow, I'm sure you'll struggle through," Deeks told her. Taking a deep breath, Deeks started walking to the door. "I need some fresh air. Kensi, whatever you decide, you know I'm on your side." He looked at Hetty before he left. "For the record, I would have kept quiet about the bracelet until the end."

Kensi walked to the window and watched Deeks walk down the beach.

"How long has Mr. Deeks been that angry?"

"November 2013."

Hetty nodded. "He masked it well."

"Isn't that why you brought him on the team? He's very good at pretending to be something he's not."

"True," Hetty seemed defeated to Kensi. "And what about you Miss Blye."

Kensi started walking from the window. "What do you want to hear Hetty? That I'm fine with being lied to for months, for being used. Deeks calls it your personal try for your own human psychological experiment."

"I don't understand."

"Let's take the military brat, only child who finally found friends and family after years of being on her own. Then take that all away. Suddenly. Put her thousands of miles away in closed quarters where everyone is suspicious of her. Leave her there with no real assignment, just stares from co-workers wondering if she's the next person to be beheaded or some stone cold assassin ready to kill at a drop of a hat. Then ship almost every single person away for Christmas except a superior who has used her in the past and a CIA agent who was in charge of a case where her partner and best friend was tortured and brutalized."

"Miss Blye," Hetty tried to interrupt.

"Half of the strangers she was stationed with don't return from Christmas break but the ones that do return are the most dislikeable people in the truck. Oh and let's get the CIA agent who was running the investigation that got Deeks and Sam tortured and put him in charge of the place. She won't have any issues with that now will she?" Kensi stopped and stood in front of Hetty. "And when she's so alone, so focused on getting her assignment done and returning to what mattered to her most, she finally gets a chance to finish her assignment, she runs off..."

"Kensi, I..."

"What Hetty? When I went out to take out the White Ghost, I was ready to fire. Tell me, if Jack's shemagh didn't slip and I shot him, would you have told me I shot and killed not only an innocent man but a man I thought I'd marry someday?"

"It's more ..."

"It is a simple question, Hetty. If I killed Jack, would you have told me about your involvement in all this?"

"I expected you to see that it was Jack Simon and that you'd contact me immediately."

"You sent me there to kill him. I was seconds away from doing just that."

"But you didn't."

"No. I did what you expected me to do."

"I expected you to call."

"No, you expected me to find him. To help him. And I did. Just as you expected. And so ends your personal Kensi Blye experiment. Hard to hear I'm sure but I promise you, it was a lot harder to survive."

"Helping Jack would have been the plan if you contacted me. I knew people in and around the base who could have..."

"So what happened is my fault," Kensi interrupted.

"Of course not, Miss Blye. It is my fault. I expected you to react in a different way. I was mistaken."

"Maybe one day you'll be sorry." Kensi was beginning to think Deeks was right about freezing out Hetty for all the wrong reasons. These were conversations she never wanted to have.

Hetty sat in her chair with her hands folded. "I believe if it was up to Mr. Deeks, you would have never told me about the Witchblade and Kenneth Irons. Why did you tell me?

"This," she handed Hetty the photo of Irons and Hetty at the 47th Annual Academy Awards. "You know Irons."

"I do."

"You could be a resource. I don't trust Irons."

"Kenneth Irons is not a man to be trusted," Hetty looked at the photo. "But then, I doubt Mr. Deeks thinks I'm a woman to be believed either."

"He may be wrong. What do you know about this?" Kensi held up her wrist.

"I wore it once but it had no reaction to me. Good or bad. Kenneth Irons spent decades trying to find a woman who wields it for him. He thought perhaps a woman of my skills with weapons and background in the intelligence…"

"And your intelligence overall," Kensi added.

"Yes, but the Witchblade wants the whole package and that package usually includes a tall, beautiful woman like you. For years Irons's father dated a model named Dominique Boucher. She was stunning and she wore the Witchblade for nearly a decade. Kenneth Irons the son told me that the Witchblade kept her young well past her modeling days. She ran a modeling agency and never looked a day over 30. It is one of the Witchblade's skills – it keeps the wielder young and healthy."

"What happened to Dominique Boucher?" Kensi asked.

"She lost her mind in about fifteen years ago. One of her models was found in a bathtub filled with snakes. Supposedly Boucher had some concoction that would keep her even younger looking than the Witchblade ever did by mixing venom from snakes that attacked young, beautiful women. She was quite mad."

"Did the Witchblade make her crazy?" Kensi asked, worried.

"No, losing it did. Kensi, you have been given a great responsibility. If it has bonded with you, and I can't imagine a better host for it, much will be expected of you. However, you will not just be engaged in your typical duties – good and evil forever battle over souls like yours. You can't lose yourself in that fight."

"I assume this won't go in my work record."

"No. This will be our secret. And Detective Deeks's too. I think you probably need to tell him you think of me as a resource and hopefully down the road I can become someone you trust again," Hetty stood and started to the door off the kitchen. "You'll find a box of new fuses in the recycling bin near the beach. You and Mr. Deeks can replace them and the safe house will go back online. The security camera saw him leave a few minutes ago, perhaps you should join him."

"Okay," Kensi nodded.

"And Miss Blye, I am sorry for everything that happened to you in Afghanistan. I am sorry you were hurt. I am sorry you felt isolated and alone when you were in the field. I believed then and I believe now you are one of the finest agents I have ever trained. You survived, dear, you have thrived since your return. The Witchblade recognizes that in you as I always have," Hetty said before leaving.

Kensi walked a block from the safe house to the beach. She saw the recycling bin and pulled out the box of electrical fuses. She found Deeks on the beach with his shoes off, dipping his toes in the ocean.

"Is she sending you to Djibouti? Maybe open NCIS's first field office in Antarctica?"

"No. Staying here," Kensi took Deeks's hand and pulled him back away from the ocean. They sat next to the lifeguard stand as Deeks put on his shoes. "If it means anything, I do think she's sorry about what happened last year."

"Makes it all better," Deeks replied sarcastically. Taking a deep breath, he added "I am sorry I didn't handle that better."

"You've been handling it for close to two years, you're good."

"I am," Deeks said with a smile. "And so are you."

"I have a little trick to show you. I think," Kensi said, opening the box of fuses. "Put out your hand," Kensi told Deeks. When he complied, she put one of the fuses in his palm. "Here goes nothing," she told him. The fuse started to float about an inch over Deeks's hand.

"What the?" Deeks was stunned.

"In the shower this morning, I dropped my shampoo bottle. As I started to lean over to pick it up, I put out my hand and it came to me."

"Wow."

Kensi eased the fuse back into Deeks's hand. "I want to try something."

"If you're going to lift me up, at least do it over the water. Sand is better than cement but it still isn't the best landing spot."

"No, but we can do that soon," Kensi said with a smile. She thought of him, how she loved him and how he loved her, and smiled. "Think about lifting the fuse, Deeks."

"What?"

"Please."

Deeks looked at Kensi and then the fuse. Thinking it would be great if he could make things fly for Kensi, the fuse hovered over his palm. "Oh, God, Kens."

"Maybe you should read Nell's research. If I'm sharing the power with the Consort, I'd like you to know what you can do," Kensi said, kissing him on the cheek.

"When you learn how to fly, we are going to have so much fun," Deeks said with a smile.

"Come on, we have to replace the fuses in the safe house and get back to the office," Kensi stood and Deeks followed.

"Hetty?"

"On our side."

"For now."

"Deeks," Kensi said.

"She's a Cold War warrior, sorry, warrioress – trust but verify right now."

"Hetty doesn't think we should trust Irons but doesn't seem to know that the Kenneth Irons from the 1950's is the same guy we're dealing with now."

"At last, something Hetty doesn't know."

x-x-x

Fuses replaced, Kensi and Deeks made their way back to the office. The two decided to write up their dinner with Kenneth Irons as a part of the museum investigation. The call from the SecNav went well – Deeks was even getting a letter for his LAPD personnel jacket. Nell and Eric were visiting Callen that night so Kensi and Deeks planned a Wednesday visit. With no real plans for the night, Kensi wanted to sleep in her own bed and Deeks was happy to join her. He ran home to give Monty a walk and some dinner.

Walking into his apartment, Deeks turned the lights on. A stun gun to his neck turned Deeks's lights off.

Kensi's phone ran an hour after Deeks was due. "Where the hell are you?" she asked when she saw Deeks's number. "If you don't want to watch 'The Voice'…"

"Martin is currently tied to a chair in my living room, Kensi. I think it's time we have a talk," Kenneth Irons said. "I wasn't happy with the way our last conversation ended and I think you needed a stark reminder of just how weak your negotiation position is. Check your e-mail."

Kensi checked her e-mail and saw a video of Deeks slumped in a rather ornate chair near the fire place in Kenneth Irons's living room. David Harris, Irons's security man, lifted Deeks's head by his hair. There were bruises all over his face. The e-mail said "I'll be waiting for you, Kensi. – Kenneth."

-30-


	11. Halves of One

**11.** "One's not half of two; two are halves of one." - E. E. Cummings

* * *

Deeks woke up tied to a chair with a stinging pain in his neck. He remembered walking into his apartment and not much else.

"Ah, Martin, you are awake," Kenneth Irons said as he walked over to the chair. "I was beginning to think we would need to break out the ammonia capsules." Irons was dressed as Deeks had always seen him - a suit that likely cost more than his rent for the last three months, an expensive tie and pricy shoes.

"I'm guessing there won't be lamb in the dining room with cigars and scotch in the courtyard tonight?" Deeks asked trying to assess his situation. He figured he was in Irons's fancy library with the head man and his security chief David Baker. Baker was in a black suit and black turtleneck - the perfect outfit for kidnapping police officers, Deeks thought. With his hands cuffed behind him, Deeks figured he was sitting in one of Irons's expensive antiques - an old but solidly built chair. He didn't know what time it was but he needed to hit the bathroom when he got home from walking Monty. Now he really needed to find a restroom. "Where's my dog?"

"In your apartment, I'm not a cruel man," David Baker answered politely.

"No, you're just paid muscle," Deeks replied. "What, the boss only paid for me to get dragged here and not my dog?"

No longer feeling the need to be polite, Baker sneered, "Brave talk for a man in your position. Just so you know, I like dogs a great deal more than their mouthy, troublemaking owners."

Deeks offered a dramatic sigh. "Tied to a chair with a rich psycho and his paid, tough guy minion - sadly, been there, done that about two and a half years ago. Spoiler alert: Kensi got me out of the chair and I killed the tough guy minion and the rich psycho was killed too. Consider that a head's up, you two."

Chuckling with genuine appreciation, Irons patted Deeks on the shoulder. "My, you are an interesting man, Martin. I could have David kill you. He's quite skilled at the art of making his physical encounters as painful as possible for his prey."

"You could unleash your stooge but I think Kensi may object. And I don't think you want Kensi unhappy with you, considering what she can unleash. Speaking of leashes, are you sure my dog is OK? Did you make sure he had some water in his bowl before you dragged me out of my place? He likes a good re-hydrating after a walk."

"Martin, I would be more worried about your situation than you dog's."

"I'm not worried about my situation. I'm sure you've called Kensi. She's not going to be happy you planned this little play date without her permission. And like the Hulk, you're not going to like Kensi when she's angry. Gets all angry and stabby. And that was before she had your magical bracelet."

"I do not want Kensi angry. What I want is for Kensi to understand her role in this as I want you to understand yours, Martin," Irons said as he walked away from Deeks. "The Witchblade is usually wielded by a woman alone in this world and that solitary life benefits her. Without a husband or a lover, she can limit her focus on her duties and responsibilities. She isn't distracted by a mate who is a ripe target for kidnappings, beatings or blackmail to control her."

"You know, a guy could consider what you've done to me right now a kidnapping, a beating and blackmail to get Kensi to talk to you," Deeks said. "As a lawyer, I feel the need to explain your precarious legal position right now and offer you the opportunity to release me, write me a check for my time - I'm open to signing a non-disclosure agreement if there are enough zeros in the check - and let me go home."

"You are a cheeky fellow aren't you, Martin?" Irons shook his head.

"I'm guessing that's a rhetorical question," Deeks replied.

"You would be correct. In the grander scheme of things, however, you will be a great help to me. For days I thought you were leading Kensi astray I realize now that you Martin will be the reason she works with me to master her skills with the Witchblade."

"If you're going to lock me in a tower or something to get Kensi to do your bidding, first, LAPD or NCIS may wonder where I am, second, Kensi does what she pleases."

"No, Kensi will do as I instruct and as long as she's obedient, I will prove to be a fair mentor. So once Kensi and I have come to an agreement this evening, you will be free to go. But I will make to clear to Kensi just as I am making this clear to you, every misstep Kensi takes, you'll pay for in blood. Of that, I can assure you."

"Going back to being free to go, I need to go to the bathroom."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Martin. Surely, you are as well trained as you beloved dog."

Deeks smiled. "This is a fancy chair and that looks like an expensive rug on the floor here. It would be a shame to ruin them. I'm not kidding. I really need to use the restroom."

"You would allow yourself to be covered in your own waste when Kensi arrives?" Irons chuckled. "How manly. What a lucky young woman Kensi is to find a beau like you."

"Once again Ken, not the first time she found me beat up, strapped to a chair and covered in my own body fluids," Deeks told Irons. After waiting a second, Deeks added, "I hope you have a good dry cleaner for the rug because I hit the drive through going home and got myself an iced vanilla latte. Even ate the ice. Now that's a bad habit and certainly one I'm regretting now. Anyway, you know the law of coffee - you don't really buy it, more sort of rent."

"David, take Martin to the servant's toilet and return him to the chair when he is finished. I'll be in my study. Please tell me when Kensi arrives. We have much to discuss." Irons turned on his heel and disappeared down a hall.

"Oh, thank you God," Deeks said as Baker unlocked the handcuff long enough to free Deeks from the chair. As Baker was about to re-cuff him from behind, Deeks offered a suggestion. "You may want to put the handcuffs up front unless you're interested in literally having hands on experience in making my bladder gladder."

Baker locked the handcuff in front of Deeks. "One false move and you'll be peeing through a catheter for a month. Mr. Irons needs you alive, he doesn't need you comfortable." Baker pushed Deeks toward the bathroom.

"Put your hands on me one more time, I'll pee on the floor and you can clean up your boss's fancy marble," Deeks warned. "Then I'll be comfortable."

x-x-x

As Kensi turned on the private road to Irons's mansion, she saw a man close to her age in a golf cart waving to her. As she rolled down the window, the man ran to the driver's side of her SUV. "Agent Blye, Mr. Irons has gone mad," the gentleman told her with a slight accent - Dutch, Kensi thought. "Please tell me you can help."

"And you are?" Kensi asked, her concern for Deeks growing by the second.

Wearing a white dress shirt, a black tie and slacks along with a serving apron, the man introduced himself. "I am Gerrit Ijzeren, ma'am. Mr. Irons has your Agent Deeks..."

"Detective Deeks, he's LAPD," Kensi corrected almost automatically. "Is he hurt?"

"I don't know ma'am. I believe he was unconscious when I saw him. Detective Deeks was brought in over Mr. Baker's shoulder not long after Mr. Irons ordered the staff to leave for the evening. I was just finishing up when I saw Mr. Baker arrive."

"I have to get there," Kensi told Gerrit.

"Ma'am, I don't think Mr. Irons is in his right mind. If you drive up and enter through the front door, I think you're walking into a trap. I can take you to the servant entrance and get you to the library where they're holding your Detective Deeks."

"Gerrit, if this is a trick or part of a set up with Irons," Kensi warned as she pulled the Caddy to the side of the road, "I'll make you..."

"Ma'am," Gerrit interrupted. "I've known Mr. Irons for years. The last time he dismissed the staff was when his friend Det. Pezzini was killed. Hij is van slag..."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Kensi said as she got into the golf cart.

"He is not right," Gerrit said shaking his head as he drove Kensi to the back of the mansion. "He's is not right."

x-x-x

Deeks figured he was officially the most relieved man in America. With Baker standing at the door watching, Deeks made every effort to make his visit to the restroom as loud as possible with several sighs of contentment starting with a breathy "Oh thank God!" After he was finished, an exaggerated zipping of his fly and flushing the toilet was part of his plan. Moving to the sink, Deeks continued the show by giving his hands the best wash he could with the handcuffs on. While seemingly looking at the bruises on his face in wall mirror, Deeks pushed a folded washcloth into the sink, soaking it.

"Thanks Dave, feel much better," Deeks said as he turned around to face his bathroom buddy with the wet washcloth tucked in his right hand.

As Baker took a step forward, Deeks flung the wet hand towel at Baker's eyes. In the second it took for Baker to realize what was happening, Deeks was able to kick him in the groin. Kensi, he thought, would be so proud. Putting Baker in a handcuff aided sleeper hold, Deeks was able to knock the man out and place him on the floor in less than a minute. Fishing the handcuff key from the man's pocket, Deeks freed himself before taking the Baker's gun and phone. Deeks dragged the man over to the toilet, tossing his right arm in the space between the toilet tank and seat and snaking his left arm underneath the tank before handcuffing the unconscious man to the toilet. Looking in the sink cabinet, Deeks found some plumber's tape. Ripping off a strip, Deeks made sure Baker wasn't going to be calling for help anytime soon.

With Baker's phone, Deeks called Kensi. "It's me," he said as soon as she answered.

"Where are you?"

"Servant's bathroom somewhere near the library. Irons doesn't know I'm no longer in the custody of his security guy. Where are you?"

"One of Irons's household staff members is sneaking me in the back. Where's the security guy?"

"Tied up and taking a nap. Kens, I don't like this," a troubled Deeks said.

"Gerrit seems more worried about his boss's mental state than anything else," Kensi told him as the golf cart pulled up to a service door.

"Who is Gerrit?"

"The guy from Irons's staff. He didn't leave with the others. He's worried about Irons."

"The man needs to get a hobby. So what's the plan?"

"Deeks, do you think you can get back to the chair and..."

"Replay the Sidorov job all over again."

"Sort of. Just be sitting in that big chair when I arrive," Kensi said, worrying about putting Deeks through something like that again. "We'll be fine."

"Of course we will. You wield, I'll consort - we'll be great," Deeks said peeking out the bathroom door to see if the coast was clear. "Irons is in his study, waiting for you."

"Good to know. See you in a few. Love you."

"Love you, too," Deeks said smiling. Looking at the unconscious Baker handcuffed to the toilet Deeks said, "Not too much love for you dude, but hey, if you need to use bathroom, you're already here. Much like you, I'm not a cruel man." He checked both ways before exiting the bathroom and hoped he remembered his way back.

x-x-x

Gerrit had an actual map of the home. Since Irons recently moved to the home, his long-time servants were still learning how to get around after years of working in his Manhattan penthouse. Kensi told Gerrit to leave - Irons probably wouldn't be happy he was still there. Gerrit agreed that Irons wouldn't be happy he was there and wish Kensi luck.

Kensi quietly made her way down the main hall, passing the library first. She saw Deeks sitting in large chair with his hands behind his back. "You OK?" she asked as she walked to the library.

Deeks showed Kensi he wasn't handcuffed. "Want company getting our host?" he asked.

"Nah - I think I'll bring him here. Keep your hands where he can't see them. We'll treat him to the Kensi and Deeks show," Kensi said before leaving. Deeks sat back and waited for Kensi to return.

Kensi quickly and quietly made her way down the hall. She saw the opened door to what the map said was Irons's study. Walking several steps into the room, she announced, "I'm here to pick up Deeks. This was a mistake on your part and one that will not be repeated. Don't. Ever. Touch. Him. Again."

"I don't take orders..." Irons started to say but he watched Kensi leave. "Dammit!" Kensi heard him yell.

Sprinting, Kensi made sure she in the clear before Irons entered the hall. She ducked into the library, warning Deeks, "Incoming, cranky 900-year old man."

Deeks smiled.

"David, explain to Kensi just how vulnerable Martin is," Irons ordered when he walked into the room. "Where is David?" Irons asked.

"Looking around at the place, are you sure you did give him the night off too? You're really light on servants," Kensi noted. "I had to let myself in."

Ignoring Kensi, Irons turned to Deeks. "Martin, where is David?"

"He's still in the bathroom. I was able to find my way back on my own," Deeks said with a smile.

"Show him your other party trick, Deeks," Kensi said.

"Look, no handcuffs," Deeks said as he stood from the chair. "I'm going to have to insist that you and your paid muscle never put your hands on me again."

"Consider it done, Martin. I will never put a hand on you again," Irons said, waving his arm toward Deeks. Deeks went flying into the bookcase eight feet behind him.

A little dazed, Deeks slowly stood. "OK, that's a cool party trick, too."

"My time with the Witchblade was short but I was able to retain some of its gifts when I need them most," Irons said as he walked closer to Kensi and Deeks. "I just want the opportunity to mentor you Kensi. Sara would not accept my counsel and she paid for that decision with her life."

"She wore the Witchblade for nine years. Forgive me for thinking that keeping her distance from you was the reason she remained her alive all those years," Kensi replied.

Irons flicked his wrist and Deeks was thrown to the ground. "I can do this all night," Irons said with a bored tone.

Deeks slowly stood. "So can I."

"I doubt it, Martin," Irons said, tossing Deeks back into the bookcase.

Deeks slowly stood, again.

"Stop it," Kensi ordered. "Touch him again and..."

"And you'll what, Kensi? Make me stop. That won't happen. You need to understand that Martin is a liability. A tool that can be used to control you. A tool I will be happy to use to control you."

"Who you callin' a tool, tool?" Deeks asked as he slowly walked toward Kensi.

"The depth of your clever repartee is a wonder to behold," Irons's tone dripped with sarcasm.

Deeks smiled at Kensi, even though he was very sore. "Kenny thinks I'm clever."

Kensi looked at Deeks and whispered, "I love you."

Deeks felt the soreness leave his body. The ache in his neck was gone too.

"You look better without the bruises," Kensi told him with a wink.

Deeks saw a reflection of himself in one of Irons's brass lamps. No nasty bruises on his face - nice.

"You have been reading about the Consort, after all," Irons said, surprised.

"That's none of your business. My life is none of your business," Kensi told him.

"You have no idea what power..."

"I have an idea," Kensi replied. Placing her right arm across her body, she called the Witchblade and it answered. The bracelet became a gauntlet. The gauntlet suddenly had a six inch blade from the middle right knuckle. Pointing the blade at Irons, Kensi had it change into a sword. "I have a very good idea."

"Kensi wins the cool party trick contest," Deeks chuckled. "By a lot."

Irons stood in shock. "You can call the Witchblade at will."

"I can and I will. Touch Deeks again and you'll pay. Show up at our breakfasts, jobs, whatever, you'll pay. There's nothing I can learn from you because your history with the Witchblade is just that. History. I'm wielding it now as I see fit. As I was born to wield the Witchblade. I am responsible for its future and my future and that future does not include you," Kensi said to Irons. Turning to Deeks, she said "I'm hungry, let's get some dinner." The Witchblade reverted to just the gauntlet covering her hand to her elbow.

Irons lifted his hand and the doors to the library closed. "We are not finished."

"Oh, dude, you're done," Deeks said shaking his head. Turning to Kensi. "Dinos? Chicken and waffles maybe. We need to go back to my place. Monty is probably a little upset about my unplanned trip here."

"That's enough!" Irons screamed. "I will not be disrespected in my own home."

"You're the one who dragged me here," Deeks snarked.

"And I will drag you where I please," Irons put his hand up but Kensi swatted at the air, forcing Irons's hand down by force of her will. Irons turned to her in a rage. "I took that from one woman wielding it, I can take that from you. If it has changed, maybe it will be more receptive to me."

"I think I'll be a lot harder to kill that Elizabeth Bronte."

"How do you know about Elizabeth?!" Irons bellowed.

"Elizabeth Bronte and I are family," Kensi said, as the sword returned to the Witchblade. "You know I avenged my father's death. Now maybe I can give Elizabeth the justice she deserves."

"Elizabeth got exactly what she deserved, as will you," Irons said, springing at Kensi. Kensi jumped and was suddenly hovering about six feet over Irons.

"This is the happiest day of my life," Deeks said as he saw Kensi floating with ease over the room.

Irons lept and was suddenly wrestling Kensi in midair. Deeks pulled Baker's weapon but had no hopes for a shot - he couldn't risk Kensi's life trying to hit Irons.

With a kick to his gut, Kensi sent Irons to the floor and the corner of his library. Easing herself to the ground, she warned him, "I will kill you. You've threatened me, you've threatened Deeks."

"The Witchblade will never allow you to kill me. You can try but it will find you wanting. It will fail you just as it failed the others. And when it does, I will kill your lover before your very eyes."

"You'll die first," Kensi promised.

"That's what I'm rooting for," Deeks added.

Irons stood and sudden launched himself at Deeks. In less than a second, the gun Deeks carried dropped to the floor. Irons grabbed Deeks by the neck, lifting him more than two inches off the ground and choking him. Deeks frantically pulled Irons's hand but his grip was like a vise.

"Let him go!" Kensi yelled.

"How long do you think I'll have to hold him before his brain starts to die? Will a slightly brain damaged Martin Deeks turn into his father? Would you allow him to beat you, Kensi, as amends for your culpability in his injuries? Would you..."

Just as Deeks was losing consciousness, he felt Irons loosen his grip. Falling to the ground, Deeks saw why Irons was no longer strangling him. The man was missing his head.

Kensi dropped to Deeks's side. "Are you OK?"

"I'm good," he gasped - enjoying several deep breaths. "Real good. You?"

"I killed him," Kensi said.

"Thank you," was Deeks's reply.

"He was going to..."

"Yes, Kensi, what was I going to do?" Irons asked, head firmly back on his shoulders. "I want to make sure I continue whatever you interrupted," Irons told her.

"Oh great, he's Jason Voorhees," Deeks gasped.

Putting herself between Deeks and Irons, Kensi told their host, "You were going to let us leave and then leave us alone."

"I doubt that," Irons stood, as did Kensi. She helped haul Deeks's to his feet. "Whatever I did to Martin, I'll enjoy doing again." Deeks was knocked to the ground with a flick of Iron's wrist. Waving in fingers, Irons seemed to be pulling Deeks to him.

The Witchblade suddenly covered Kensi in a full suit of armor. Head to toe, she was wearing chainmail armor with plates protecting her arms, torso and legs. On her head was a helmet and visor. She raised the sword and this time aimed for Irons's heart, just as she learned from her fencing class. With a graceful ease, she ran the blade through his heart.

Deeks looked up to see Irons with a surprised look on his face. As Kensi pulled out the sword, Irons's cheeks hollowed, his color turning a sickly grey. Dropping to his knees, Irons took a deep breath but started to cough. Black smoke came from his mouth, blood poured from his eyes and ears.

Deeks crawled away. The Witchblade was back as a gauntlet - the chainmail armor and the protective plates were all gone - but the sword remained.

"I...I...I," were Kenneth Irons's final words before hitting the floor face first.

Deeks got to his feet, moving next to Kensi. "Do you think he's going to get up again?"

"Good question," Kensi replied, still on guard for any movement.

Clapping came from the library's far door. Gerrit stood in entrance, applauding. "Well done Agent Blye, very well done."

"Gerrit?"

Deeks took a few steps and picked up Baker's handgun. Pointing it at Gerrit he said, "Freeze!"

Gerrit put his hands up. "I can assure you, I mean you no harm," he told Kensi and Deeks, now without a trace of an accent. The Witchblade transformed back into a bracelet. "The Witchblade recognizes that."

"The Witchblade didn't think Irons was a problem until he was."

"Oh, the Witchblade always knew Kenneth Irons was trouble just as he knew the Witchblade would likely be the end of him. That's why he desperately wanted to wield it. And once he knew he couldn't, he absolutely had to control the women who did."

"Who are you?" Deeks asked.

"He's Gerrit, he works for Irons. Though I'm guessing you're not a part of the household staff."

"I've actually never worked for Kenneth Irons. Well, I was under his command once but no, I don't work for him."

"Who are you?" Deeks asked again.

"You can put the weapon down, Detective. If I wanted to see you harmed, I would have delayed Agent Blye instead of giving her directions to where you were and where Kenneth Irons was waiting. I think Agent Blye would agree, I was most helpful."

Deeks looked at Kensi, who nodded yes. He lowered the gun but didn't put it away. He also looked at the body of Kenneth Irons, which was now decaying at a rapid rate.

"You were helpful but you obviously didn't tell me the truth. Be helpful and truthful now - who you are?" Kensi ordered.

"Oh, I've been known by a lot of names over the years – Gerrit, Garrett, Grant, Gregory, Gordon, Graham, Gideon. The two aliases you are likely to know me by are Gerhardt and Gabriel. Both useful to the Witchblade in the last seventy years or so. But a formal introduction is due. My name is Gerard Irons, onetime farm boy, Templar Knight during the Third Crusade, professional party boy and son of Kenneth Irons."

-30-

Author's Notes: Down to the stretch - likely one chapter (maybe an epilogue since I can't shut up). Thank you for sticking with me through this. It was fun to write. I hope it was fun to read.


	12. Heroine

**12.** "Above all, be the heroine of your life." - Nora Ephron

* * *

"But a formal introduction is due. My name is Gerard Irons, onetime farm boy, Templar Knight during the Third Crusade, professional party boy and son of Kenneth Irons," Gerard said, bowing slightly.

Deeks remembered the conversation in Sara Pezzini's living room. "Aren't you supposed to be drunk in Rio?" he asked.

"Yes I am," Gerard said with a smile. "And I have every intention of returning to those arduous duties but I had business here and business that looks very done." Gerard looked at what was now a fleshless skeleton that was once Kenneth Irons.

"He was trying to kill Deeks," Kensi started to explain.

"I know, I was watching," Gerard lifted his hand and slowly put it in his coat pocket. "The new iPhone 6S is amazing. It was like I was in the room with you."

"You watched?" Kensi asked.

"Of course. Pops here always believed the Witchblade could kill him. I'm sure some part of the smug son of a bitch is proud he was right once again. Of course, that part is now desiccated dust on the floor. And for the record, I really mean you no harm and will work diligently to do nothing to anger or annoy you. I really don't want to be on the money end of the Witchblade."

"Is that why you snuck me in the building?"

"Certainly part of the reason. You're not a person I want particularly annoyed at me. And under no circumstances do I want to wind up like that," Gerard pointed to now a big pile of dust. "Daddy-O may have been able to put his head back on after losing it but he ain't bouncing back from that."

"Why not" Kensi asked.

Walking to the body, Gerard explained, "The old man was magic. I'm magic. Your bracelet is magic. For future reference, if you're going to kill anything that's magic, run the Witchblade through its heart. Magic begins and ends in the heart. Kill the heart, kill the magic."

"Good to know," Kensi mumbled.

Gerard was humming as he looked at his father's remains. It took Deeks a second to realize the song was "Dust in the Wind." "You don't seem terribly bothered by your father's death," Deeks noted.

"Oh God, no. Terrible person. Shitty father, pardon my language Kensi. Evil and controlling. This was the only way you two were going to get him out of your life. He had very particular plans for you, Detective Deeks. Do you like to be called Marty? I know you're Kensi," Gerard said as walked over to the a table with a brandy snifter and some glasses. After pouring himself a healthy glass, he sat on a couch in the corner of the library. "The old man liked the full formal name - probably thought it made him sound important. Made him sound like a self-important dick - which he was."

"Plans for me? And Deeks is fine."

"Deeks it is. You can call me Gerard because at 850-years old, Gerry just seems like a really childish name. Now what we were talking about?" Gerard asked.

"Plans for me," Deeks answered.

"Oh yes, plans for you, Deeks. Once Kensi agreed tonight to be a good little Witchblader for Kenneth the Horrendous to guarantee your freedom and safety, he actually was going to let the two of you leave. In a day or two, Deeks would be in some sort of terrible mishap - the thug you have handcuffed in the bathroom is very good at making intentional attacks look like accidents. The plan was to leave you crippled. Good Sir Kenneth would swoop in, offering his wealth and influence to have Deeks put in some care facility that only a man of his means could afford. Since you are the Consort, you'd remain alive – though I'm guessing you'd be unable to do anything except wear a diaper, be fed three times a day and wait to die - but your care would be in Poppy's total control. And with that, so would you, Kensi."

Deeks shook his head. Kensi felt sick.

"Maybe you didn't notice this right away," Gerard said after taking a sip of his brandy, "Mr. Kenneth was a prick."

"And what are your plans?" Kensi asked.

"Besides being drunk in Rio." Deeks added.

"Something I am very interested in returning to but first, someone is going to have to cover up the dusting you gave my father," Gerard laughed at his own joke. "And I can do that."

"What do you mean by that?" Kensi asked, worrying if she's moved from possibly being controlled by the father to being indebted to the son.

"I know people. People who have been waiting for this moment for decades."

"I'm still going to need more that that," Kensi told him.

Chuckling, Gerard explained, "Years ago, with the help of some people in the know, I set up an identity for Gerard Irons, son of Kenneth Irons in whatever international CEO mogul incarnation he had publicly."

"But that's who you are."

"Quite correct Deeks. But oddly, the record of my birth in 1165 doesn't really pass muster here. No, an ID was created decades ago of Gerard Irons, secret love child of Kenneth Irons just in case the old, old, old man got what he so richly deserved. After I clean up his death here and get the news out to the media, the world meets Gerard Irons, recent MBA graduate and heir to his vast fortune."

"Won't that cut into your drunk time?" Deeks asked.

"Probably. But we'll work something out."

"We?" Kensi started to wonder how many people really knew about the Irons and maybe the Witchblade.

"We. What did Sara tell you about me?"

"Who?" Kensi and Deeks said simultaneously.

"Sara Pezzini. Former NYPD, current stay-at-home mom living on Catalina Island," Gerard sighed. "I was Gabriel. I set up her entire false legend, helped Ian buy the house and hid his money to protect Sara and their daughter."

"But you mourned her to Nell," Kensi said.

"Of course I did, Kensi. She was my friend and she was moving away for her safety. I couldn't contact her again and I spent nearly a decade with a great friend. That usually doesn't happen to me." There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Once Sara was 'dead', Pap figured out I was Gabriel. I had to start publicly mourning her. Nell Jones was always such a sweetheart and she was in town. She also worked for a government agency that had a good reputation and people Oldie McOldGuy wouldn't want to mess with. I got to play the grieving boyfriend."

"Nell thought you had a crush on Sara," Deeks said.

"I adored her. First, she was smart. After all these years, I've realized there is nothing more beautiful than an intelligent woman. Second, she was – still is actually - beautiful physically. And that voice - I'm a sucker for women with a husky voice. And brunettes. Love brunettes. Sara was the whole package."

"She didn't know who you were?"

"No. I was in New York for some other business at the time. Computer boy Gabriel was a fun legend."

"Legend?" Kensi asked. "How much of what Sara told us about Gerard was a legend?"

"Some. A lot of it is true. I do like to drink and party and I'm very good at it. It isn't like I have to worry about blowing out my liver or alcohol poisoning. I use to smoke too but here in America you've all become such anti-smoking crusaders - no pun intended with that coming from me - that I just decided to quit."

"So what's true?" Deeks wondered.

"What did Sara tell you? Oh, let me guess, always on siding with the loser in every war."

"That came up," Deeks said.

Gerard gave an exaggerated sigh. "No, no, no. I've been fighting wars for over 800 years. You're going to pick the wrong side every now and again. Add in personal biases, too. Being almost immortal doesn't mean I can see the future."

"Personal biases?" Kensi lifted an eyebrow.

"I hate the French," Gerard said with real malice. "Most British men of my age, and really the generations that came after men my age, don't like the French. They're usually fun people to fight wars against. But then they get cozy with you plucky Americans and suddenly I'm on the wrong side of things starting with the Revolutionary War."

"Is that's why you were a Nazi?" Kensi asked, remembering what she knew about his Gerhardt persona.

"I wasn't a Nazi. Well I was but I was a spy for the U.S. pretending to be a Nazi. Big difference," Gerard sighed. "I hung with the Germans in WWI. Again, hate the French but the Americans showed up and I really do like you Americans. You're a spunky bunch. Not always on the right side of things but you try to be. After eight and a half centuries on this planet, you can't imagine how rare that is."

"You were an S.S. Officer," Kensi remembered the stories of Elizabeth.

"I was. Gerhardt Altenhofen was a well-respected member of the S.S., an insider who was at the table whenever decisions were being made. And while I was in France, I dated a beautiful American living in Paris. Elizabeth was a spitfire and I mean that with all the respect in the world. We'd trade secrets between kisses. It was one of my favorite relationships."

Kensi found herself smiling. Gerard was charming. "And you gave her the Witchblade."

"I did, though the Nazis never knew. To save Vorschlag's interests in Europe, the putrid patriarch over there had to prove his loyalty to Hitler. Hitler was into magic - "Raiders of the Lost Ark" was more true to life than you'd think. The Fuhrer knew about the Witchblade and Cunning Kenny thought he could do his own version of Lend and Lease with it. When it didn't work on several master race women Hitler thought were worthy to wield it, he decided to keep it until he found a wielder. Then I stole it."

"From Hitler?" Deeks was skeptical.

"No, from his collection. The Germans had boxes of magical crap, emphasis being on crap. The magical equivalent of rabbit's foots, or is that feet?" Gerard thought about it for a second but waved his hand. "I'd seen the Witchblade over the years. Whatever attractive woman the elderly elder had on his arm from the late 1800's on usually wore it. Saw a woman named Josephine Valmont wearing it in Paris. Maybe one of the ten most beautiful women I've seen over my life. And I've seen lots of good-looking women. My pere over there was her lover. We had dinner one night at a fancy Parisian restaurant. We'd meet every decade or so if things were going well between us. As we were leaving the place, he paid some locals to attack us. It was crummy Kenny's way to show me the power of the Witchblade."

"He paid to have you and his lover attacked?" Deeks asked.

"Did you forget that he's a terrible person? Because that needs to inform everything you think you know about him. And, to tell you the truth, he paid those men to be skewered as human shish kabobs. They never had a chance."

"Josephine was good controlling the Witchblade."

"You're the first woman I've ever seen with any real control of the Witchblade, Kensi. I watched you fight. And that will serve you so well. But the beautiful Josephine was graceful movement personified." Gerard seemed lost in a memory. "A few years later, Josephine behaved in a way that offended the great and mighty Kenneth. Josephine was what the kids today call biracial and here's s shocker, old Ken was a racist. Josephine was a beautiful toy for him to play with but when she started having her own ideas, he killed her and moved on."

"He could kill the women who wielded the Witchblade. How?" Kensi realized the Witchblade may not have saved her in the fight.

"Only when they could not fight back. He would drug them usually. Poor Elizabeth Bronte was drugged and tied to his ship's anchor. You can do many things with the Witchblade but breathing under water for three hours isn't one of them. When he pulled her back onto the boat, she was dead, the Witchblade was no longer bonded to her. That pile of shit over there murdered her but I've always believed I was responsible for her death. After all, I gave her the Witchblade."

"How did you get her the Witchblade?"

"Well, wearing an S.S. Officer's uniform in Paris in the early 1940's got things done. I found a jeweler and gave him photos of the Witchblade. His mother was Jewish - a fact he was successfully hiding and something I promised he could continue to hide if he could create the perfect replica. Anything less than perfect would be a problem but not my problem. It took him nearly three months but my God, it is perfect. And for his good work, I arranged for him to visit New York and never return. He died in a nice Brooklyn home with his children, grandchildren and one great grandchild around him. When I got the opportunity, I swapped the real thing with the replica, figuring it would be a good tool to beat the old man with when the war was over. Gave it to Elizabeth - hide it in plain sight - and it bonded with her."

"Did you try to control her?"

"No, Kensi. Elizabeth was just what I called her, a spitfire. Sadly, once the allies landed, the OSS had to get me out of Germany. They didn't want some earnest American soldier try to kill me as the S.S. Officer, fail and get himself killed," Gerard sighed. "I was extracted and moved to the Pacific theater. Worked as part of the 2nd Marine Division. It was too dangerous to see Elizabeth again."

"Did you love her?" Deeks asked.

"I really liked her but I try not to fall in love. When I met Sara, I think all my affection for her grandmother and my feelings for her were love. But she never saw me as anything but a computer whiz kid. She wound up with Nottingham – not my first choice for her but someone I can tolerate her being happy with."

"Tolerate?" Kensi lifted an eyebrow.

"Every few decades, the old man decides he wants a son. Usually he's busy being disappointed in me and finds some poor boy who needs some love and more importantly, has family he can buy off. Nottingham was the infant son of some Vorschlag accountant in London in the late 1960's who lost his wife in a drunk driving accident."

"Not an accident?" Deeks figured.

"No, but the accountant was driving. CEO Irons stepped in to help the man with his situation by tending to young Ian as the child's father grieved. When the senior Nottingham fell asleep smoking and died in bed– nod, nod, wink, wink – the benevolent one took in the orphan and made him his trusty ward. Whisking him to New York, it was private schools and special training before returning to England to join the Special Airs Service – all at the behest of his wanna be dad. Nottingham was molded into the perfect killer and for years, killed anyone or anything he was told to. And he was good at it. Still is. He took care of your Griffin Park rapist."

"He died of natural…."

"He died of a load of digitalis in his special kale salad. I have to tell you, there's a lot of modern life I love but your treatment of criminals here in America is disgraceful and not in the way some people think. A fair trial followed by a public neutering of that man, a life sentence in a jail that included breaking big rocks into little rocks six days a week, three meals of tasteless porridge and a mat to sleep on is still more mercy than he deserved. But no, he got his special kale salad because California is all about healthy eating for their prisoners," Gerard sneered.

"Nottingham did that?" Deeks was amazed. The jail where Tyler Dalton was held was one of the most secured facilities in the country.

"That was his skill for MI-5 – the man's a ghost. And a hero for saving you taxpayers here probably a million dollars for a trial.. Back to Nottingham, when Sara "died"," Gerard threw air quotes around the word died, "he was moved into an office job where he could be watched. Had a mind for business. Of course by making a lot of money, he could protect Sara and Francesca. And when dead daddy Kenny's will is read, Ian will get $10 million and some company to run. He can marry Sara in public and have the life they deserve."

"And you'll go back to Rio and be a drunk," Deeks noted.

"Deeks, I've been a drunk in a number of places over the years, surely Nottingham mentioned that."

"Barcelona, London, Athens …..Oh my God."

"I think our Marty's a smarty," Gerard teased.

"Deeks?"

"Olympic cities."

"At the end of WWII, I became a contractor for the nascent CIA. I've been with them ever since. Since Munich Olympics, I'm usually in town for a year or so before the Games making sure something like that ever happens again."

"What about Atlanta? What happened there?" Kensi asked.

"I'm all about big planned attacks. A lone nut with a homemade bomb – can't do much about him. "

"How were you drunk in Salt Lake City?"

"Oh Deeks, that was no fun at all. They are very nice people in Utah but it's not my kind of town. Now Rio – that's a town I can own. And the CIA knows it."

"Do they know all of it?" Kensi asked.

"Six people in the world know I'm a lot older than I look other than Sara and Nottingham. Well, five with big Patro over there being dead but really seven since you two know."

"Who are the other five?"

"The upper most part of the U.S. intelligence community."

"The President?"

Gerard shook his head. "No, those guys come and go. There is a long-standing infrastructure that survives any administration change. I'm given a handler and an assignment and I'm good. Currently, that assignment is drinking in Rio."

"But you're here."

"Yes, and I probably will be for the next few weeks. I'm drinking as Griffin McGill these days – but you can call me Griff if you're in Rio."

"Why are you here?"

"Kenneth Irons has been based in New York since the end of the Civil War. He spent time in places like London, Paris, even Washington D.C. for a short spell but he's been a several normal life-long New Yorker. Moving out here and selling the penthouse meant he knew the wielder was a West Coaster – which he had to hate. There is very little old money here. Fortunes are made in frivolous businesses by the big I's standards like the show biz or the healthy living industry. California is likely his idea of hell. Well, I'm guessing right now he's learning what hell is really like but he was not a fun in the sun sort of guy. "

"He's not any anything sort of guy," Deeks said, now pointing to a small pile of dust.

"Those CIA types are smart. I always believed Sara would be the wielder who killed him. I didn't know exactly how he'd died but one of his former lovers died decades after wearing the Witchblade. Danielle was in her 90's when she passed in a New York City jail. She became a serial killer in her post-Witchblade years."

"Oh, that's good to know."

"No, Kensi. You don't need to worry about that. Danielle was evil. The Witchblade failed her but left her with her good looks for decades. When her corpse was found, she looked every minute of her age. The feds took custody of the body an hour after she died and the CIA got a flesh-free skeleton less than a day later, a pile of dust after a week. They figured if anyone killed the Ken doll, at 850-years plus, he'd rot even faster and for the first time in centuries, I'm so proud of my father for overachieving."

"What's the CIA plan?"

"Glad you asked, Kensi, since we all need to come to an agreement on this," Gerard stood and started pacing. "The Ironsman was good enough to dismiss his staff for the evening…"

"Baker's still in the bathroom," Deeks interrupted.

"Oh, the CIA has plans for him, too. Davey was a very bad boy when working as a military contractor in Afghanistan. He's going to have to be very cooperative or enjoy the rest of his life in an Afghanistan prison cell. And their version of justice is a lot more in line with my thoughts on the matter." Pointing to the pile of Irons's remains, "Back to this literal piece of filth, he went a little bananas when Sara died. Some really erratic behavior. That's on record. His sudden move here, very out of character. His entire staff will testify about the wining and dining of your two. I'm sure Nottingham wouldn't mind testifying that Irons was instantly obsessed with you, Kensi, as a replacement for Sara. That little scene in the coffee shop – so helpful and already uploaded to my phone."

"I saw him following me a few days ago."

"That was me." Gerard admitted ruefully.

"Irons said we were wrong about that," Deeks said. "Why were you following Kensi?"

"I was making sure you weren't ratting out Sara. "

"Why would I …"

"Why would Danielle think killing young models with snakes would keep her young? People are just out of their minds sometimes, full of evil intent other times. You two seem like perfectly normal and sane folks. Do me a favor, stay that way."

Deeks thought that was a request he could fill. "So your father is mostly nuts, how does that explain the state he's in?"

"They'll be a fire later tonight in the kitchen. Only in the kitchen, though – this is a nice house that soon could be mine. Anyway, cooking Kenny will have a mishap boiling some tea. Maybe his Egyptian cotton pajamas catch fire. That will be the sad, tragic end to one of America's most successful businessmen. His will is sitting with a trusts and estates lawyer who works with the CIA. He will leave the majority of his estate to a 25-year old love child he had just before taking over the family business. Money was paid to keep young Gerard out of the spotlight. I think we'll probably hire a Gerard. I really want to stay in the spy biz."

"How are we involved?" Kensi asked.

"Of course you'll need to confirm that the Big Guy was inappropriately interested in you after a thank you dinner for saving his armor collection."

Kensi kept digging. "I'm assuming there is more,"

"Well, you keep my secret, I'll keep yours."

"You never told the CIA about the Witchblade?"

"No. They think Evil Ken and I are the only magical things on earth. Makes me valuable. Evil Ken's dead, I'm more valuable. Add in that I'm a good spy even if I'm high maintenance - I'm worth the effort. I've enjoyed decades of being the ultra-special secret snowflake."

"We're going to want some cooperation from time to time," Deeks said. Next time Hetty has some super secret mission, he wanted access to all files.

"It will flow both ways. Especially since you can call the Witchblade at will."

"What happens to the video on your phone?" Kensi asked.

"I had this place wired for video before East Coast Ken moved here. All I need to do is swap out the recording box – I'm sure Davey in the bathroom will confirm that the security system hasn't wasn't fully functional. It will be in his best interest to. So what you did here never happened. Except it did and it was awesome. "

"If anything comes out about Kensi," Deeks started to warn.

"She just killed the mostly-immortal man I've known for all my mostly-immortal life. I'm mostly-immortal and want to stay that way. I've kept the Witchblade secret since I first saw it. I said my final goodbye to Sara and plan on keeping that too – she deserves to be free from her past. I may not be the best man you'll ever meet but I am a fair one. I will never betray either of you. My only request is the one I had with Sara – one she couldn't fulfill."

"What's that?"

"Sara promised to give me as Gabriel the Witchblade when she was done with it. To convince dear old Dad she was dead, she had to leave it behind. There is nobody for you to convince who brings the evil just like good old Kenneth Irons once could. I will be a worthy guardian of it, I swear."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that. I'll clean up this mess. You two probably should be seen someplace not here around oh, say one in the morning. Be seen in a bar where people know you. Maybe stop off back at your office. Never a bad thing to have video of location when King Ken's life-ending barbeque begins."

"One misstep," Kensi started to warn.

"And you'll kill me. And you can. Believe me, keeping you happy is my goal in life."

x-x-x

Kensi and Deeks were out until just before two at a pub they liked – Seaside Murph's. The owner even teased them for being out so late on a school night but Kensi was starved and Deeks was hungry too. News of the fire at the mansion opened the 6AM morning news when they woke. If Hetty was suspicious – and both Kensi and Deeks were pretty sure she was – she kept those suspicions to herself.

With Thursday being Thanksgiving, Kensi and Deeks drove to San Diego for some time alone. Kensi wanted a plan to tell the team about the Witchblade. She decided Deeks was right – they were going to rewrite the book on how things were done. Trusted friends were going to be in on the plan.

A week before Christmas, Callen was well enough to leave the rehab facility for a dinner with Sam and his family. Kensi asked Michelle if she and Deeks could join them after dinner – she and Deeks had an announcement to make. Thinking they were going to announce an engagement, Michelle was happy to agree.

Michelle moved to disappointed when the piece of jewelry Kensi showed was a bracelet and not a ring. Callen and Sam were relieved. "Oh, she's not done," was the last thing the three heard before Kensi called the Witchblade. The gauntlet grew with the full sword coming from the knuckle.

"I really died in the warehouse, didn't I?" Callen asked. "Because this can't be happening."

"Show him the really cool trick," Deeks suggested.

Kensi stared floating about two feet off the ground.

"Please don't tell me you can fly too," Sam said to Deeks.

"Kens?" was Deeks's request before he slowly left the ground.

"I think flying together is better than getting engaged," was Michelle's reaction.

Leaving out Kenneth Irons and Tyler Dalton, Kensi gave Callen and the Hannas an abbreviated recap of her new skills. Sam remembered reading about a gauntlet wielded by women warriors. He smiled at Kensi and told her that she was a worthy warrior. She liked that. He then warned Deeks to keep his feet on the ground at all times. "And I'm not talking about flying, either."

Next up were Granger and Eric. After wrapping up a stolen weapons case in the field just before Sam was scheduled to return to the team, Kensi found an old bomb shelter in a warehouse where she and Deeks uncovered some missing grenades. With Deeks standing guard outside the room, Kensi gave Granger, who was acting as back-up, a small display of the Witchblade's gifts. When she asked that he keep knowing about the Witchblade quiet, he wondered why she thought he'd tell anyone anything that would have his fitness for duty questioned. As he started to leave, he told her "Don would be proud." She thought it was the nicest thing he ever said to her.

Eric found out on Super Bowl Sunday. Deeks invited Eric and Nell over to his place to watch the game with Kensi and Monty. Eric didn't say anything, just examined the glove and sword closely. Deeks warned him that if any video game had a woman with a blade coming from her hand, Kensi would be angry. "And I won't like Kensi if she's angry," Eric said almost to himself.

February 29th was Callen's first day in the office after his shooting. The team was back to full strength.

x-x-x

Kensi met Sara Pezzini at Huckleberry for brunch on March 20th. Kenneth Irons's death was long behind Sara, who looked five years younger in four months. Ian Nottingham was given control of Vorschlag's media interests in Irons's will along with a $10 million trust fund for his daughter. After selling the house in Catalina, they were living in a gated community in Bel Air. She and Nottingham were getting married on Mother's Day.

Kensi explained the reason for the bunch. Besides a nice sum of money, Irons left Kensi some of the Witchblade art in the will. The bequest included the Mitsouki panels, a Jeremy Geddes photorealism painting Irons commissioned of Kensi with the Witchblade – it was delivered after his death - and the Ralph Bakshi painting of Sara. Gerard, who wrote the will, wanted Sara to have the opportunity to keep the painting or burn it. Leaving it to Kensi guaranteed Sara would be able to make that decision.

Looking at the painting, Sara wasn't sure what to do with it. "I don't know," Kensi told her. "I think Francesca should know her mother is super hero. Or super heroine."

"I want her to know her numbers over 100. She doesn't need to know about what Mommy did a long time ago."

"Will you ever tell her?" Kensi asked.

"If you have a child, will you?" Sara replied.

"I've told my friends, why not?"

"You're blessed Kensi. You have a group of good people around you, a man who adores you. I had the bracelet and later on Nottingham. When Francesca was born, I promised myself I'd give her the love you have, the love every child deserves."

"Then let her know how her mother fought for her. You, me, we're part of the Bronte line. So is Francesca. She needs to know just how mighty we are."

Sara smiled.

x-x-x

My name is Kensi Blye. In November 2015, I started to wield the Witchblade. With the support of my friends, the love of my life and the strength of not only the women of my bloodline but also the women who wore this bracelet before me, I stand guard and fight for what's right. As I've learned that everything and everyone we meet are all connected, I also understand not all those connections are clear. And that's fine. I have the opportunity to learn and learn with the people I love and respect. I may be just one in the line of warrior women but I do not enter this battle alone. And that makes me the first of my kind. The Witchblade knows that and likes the new history we're making.

-30-

* * *

 **Odious author notes** :

If you made it this far – thank you. This was an odd little story I wanted to tell and I'm so happy if you read it all. It was so fun to tell. I am so grateful for all the feedback and kind words – it is loved.

Looking forward to season seven. I don't think Kensi is getting a mythical bracelet but hey, you never now.

Thank you again.

Tess  
September 13, 2015


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